


Bayu Bayushki Bayu

by writingtoreachyou



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Harvey's taste in music is not as bad as Mike always thought, Letters, Loneliness, M/M, Prison, Whining, awful call-in shows, communication is a complicated thing, music can save lives, repeated mentioning of Taylor Swift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-06-09 00:36:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 29,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6882250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingtoreachyou/pseuds/writingtoreachyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike starts writing letters from prison. Harvey is on the receiving end and responds in his very own way.</p><p>Written for the Marvey Lullaby Challenge (#52)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Dear Harvey,_

_First of all: You don’t have to answer. I know that you’re really busy, especially right now with all the things happening to the firm. I read newspapers in here and the latest articles on PSL worry me. Maybe I shouldn’t do this to myself because I know that most of it is my fault. And I care too much about your well-being. You’ve all been a family to me and have stood by my side through thick and thin - even Louis, even though you better not tell him because I’d never hear the end of it once I’m out of here again (I doubt he’d be the visiting kind). None of you deserves to go through shit, you all had a good future ahead of you and then I came waltzing in and see where it got you._

_(A bracket to the officer reading this: I’m talking about emotional connections and all. And besides, what I have to share with my old colleague and friend really isn’t that exciting, if you stop reading here, it will spare you a lot of platitudes and cliche things you have read a million times before. Just so you’re not saying I haven’t warned you… Okay. Going ahead.)_

_The first few days in here have been really scary. It’s one thing to theoretically have an idea what it’s like to be restricted to such a confined area but to actually feel it is ten times more intense. Knowing that you cannot just walk out of here, even if you wanted. It’s larger than life, no prison movie I’ve seen has prepared me for this constant anxiety of being at someone else’s mercy without the means to escape. I’ve tried sitting down every night to start writing to you because I was terrified of some of the people around here and the routines were new and some didn’t make sense to me but I guess I’m a quick learner, you know me, I tried to imitate stuff other inmates did and apart from that stayed out of trouble as well as I could. You said that one of my problems is my open heart and trusting persona. Well, let’s put it that way: I’ve already learnt to keep my mouth shut and not confide in everyone straight away. Long way to go still but… it’s not as dangerous as it looks from the outside. Most of my fellow inmates were convicted for crimes that we have witnessed first hand in our business: Fraud, embezzlement, tax manipulation… We might have even put some here, so far I’ve thankfully not met any former opponent. As for the rest - well I’m trying to avoid them._

_What really, seriously gets to me (apart from the weird noises at night, I really don’t wanna meet the monster that seems to live in the pipes of bathroom C) is the boredom. Harvey, I’m going insane in here, there is no stimulation at all. Those law books in the library were printed in grammy’s days and I’ve solved all sudoku puzzles in the magazines you sent me and now I’m basically crawling up the walls. I’ve just been assigned to my first work, thank God, that gives me something to do apart from staring at the walls and reading the books I’m being sent. Please tell Donna that I like her choice of literature and I’d be very happy to receive more stuff from her - the longer, the better._

_My correctional officer tells me that I’m not supposed to distract myself too much from thinking about all the things I have done wrong in my life and that a sentence is supposed to get you back on track. As if I didn’t know that. Ever since I sold that test, I wish I could simply undo it. Life is not black and white… But I need a task, a purpose. Without any kind of animation, my brain cells will die a slow and painful death. I can almost feel them clinging onto the back of my skull, screaming in agony. HELP MEEEEE, HELP MEEEE MICHAEL!!!! PLEEEEEASE!!!_

_There is nobody in here who’s remotely into movies unless there are plenty of naked women in them (well, there probably is but I haven’t encountered them yet and at the moment I’ve decided to keep my head down) . Once every two weeks, they show motion pics in a room they call the cinema. It’s basically just a bigger cell with a bunch of chairs and a bad screen and the flics they choose hardly ever depict any violence so we end up being fed awful romantic comedies most of the times, you’d hate it! By now I am ready to pull a bag over Meg Ryan’s head if I see that smile one more time over the upcoming months._

_I miss our banters, I never thought I’d admit that to you but I guess this is not the time for charades. The only person who’s remotely as smart as you slightly intimidates me, so I haven’t really dared to start a conversation. The harmless souls are usually also not the brightest candles on the cake and I cannot wait for my visitor list to finally be approved. - don’t get me wrong, I don’t expect you to drive out here every week, I know that it’s quite a ride. Just would be nice to tell a joke again without it being misinterpreted. When I tried a Shawshank Redeption line on one of the nicer chaps around here (or so I thought), he almost broke my nose._

_Sleeping is an issue for me because everybody keeps snoring and shuffling and I really wish I had a proper cell instead of a bed in those endless rows of bunk beds. I often listen to the radio that I bought from the commissary and the world out there seems even further away but really close at the same time and I want to get in touch with people but I can’t and it’s frustrating (oh God, I just realized how whiny all of this must sound to you. And petty. But that’s how it is, small problems are blown out of proportion in here a lot because Nothing. Ever. Happens.)._

_I had to decide whether I wanted an MP3 player and buy music from the prison internet - it’s basically a Fort Knox of its own: We (=the inmates) are not connected to the outside world but the network has a bulletin board, you can leave messages to the administration or send e-mails to pre-approved people from your contact list. There is this thing called „TRULINCS“. If I wanted to write a message to you, you’d receive a notification first, telling you that I’d like to get in touch and you need to confirm that it’s alright I’m sending you mails before any of my stuff goes through to you (not without being read first, of course). But there are just very few computers and no privacy, so I’ve decided to rather gather my thoughts here, at my desk and try to get down on paper what is happening around me. If you will, I’m shamelessly using you as some kind of outlet. Maybe I should start keeping a diary? I hope you can actually decipher my writing, it’s gotten pretty bad ever since I started working for you guys. Well, to be honest, it used to be quite bad to start with._

_But yeah. MP3 vs. radio - I decided to go for the bad music but at least that way I can listen to the news and stay somewhat connected to the world even though it’s tough. Because you become aware of the lives that are led on the outside while you sit in here and do dishes in the kitchen day in, day out. In. Out. I’ve become quite addicted to that call-in radio show that we’ve made fun about back in the days. The one you showed me at the condo one night because you thought you recognized one of the regular callers. Ridiculous, isn’t it? It’s just nice to hear normal stories every now and again, nothing life changing, or brutal - just love stories and anniversaries and weird sexual kinks and I don’t know. Those kinda things that we used to mock. And now I even find myself sobbing at the cheesiest love stories and I hope nobody gets to see it because, you know, cry babies are not exactly safe around here._

_Have you noticed that all those lonely people always request the same awful songs that are played during the day? I can tell you that the latest Taylor Swift song was played more than 30 times over the last week - and that only during the time that I was able to actually listen to that station. But I don’t wanna look for another channel because somehow it connects me to you guys. To a good memory. To a dream that no longer exists. But I have two more years to get over the fact that I’m not a lawyer anymore and can never become one. I don’t have to start my new life just yet. Give me a couple of weeks to ignore reality._

_I’m digressing, ain’t I? And I know that I should come to an end, I don’t even know what I really wanted to say with this letter. I would like to write regularly if you don’t mind receiving weird rambles about life in here. Just to get my head straight and let you in on what’s going on. To let you know I’m still alive and hanging in here. And that I’m trying to watch my back the way you asked me to. I guess I should come up with a funny quote to end this letter but somehow my brain doesn’t deliver any right now. I’ll make up for that next time, once I’ve settled in some more. Would like to see you. But no pressure._

_Take care  
_ _Mike_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I talked a little to novemberhush about this idea yesterday and she thought it was a waste of the potential of the story to only post it in two chapters. Somehow I let her talk me into writing more because I can see she might be onto something. Hope you'll enjoy reading more of this. There is no letter in this chapter but there will be one in the next one again (which automatically means that the chapter will be lighter again because it's the way Mike writes). I'm rambling... Enjoy!!!

Mike stood next to his bunk bed for the last count of the day before he climbed onto his mattress with his radio in his hand and lay down. Another day over. He’d always considered crossing off dates in calendars the biggest cliche in the history of prison but began to understand why people were doing it. It was a way of reminding yourself that this wasn’t going to last forever. That the boredom that had crept up in his bones would end one day and that he could start again once he’d be on the outside. Every day was exactly the same, he saw the same damn faces and heard the same damn voices, he’d go to work and return. Go to the chow and return. Go to get his mail and return. Read a book. Finish a sudoku. Read again. Write a letter. Lay down. Get up. Do his bed. Clean his cube. Small talk with his bunk neighbor Ted. Try to do some exercise. Read the newspaper. Try to catch some sunlight through the small windows. Go outside as soon as he was allowed to. Return as late as possible.

He had some troubles keeping his shit together, even though he had tried to hide that in his first letter to Harvey. Hopefully, he hadn’t sounded too bitter, too needy, too desperate. Harvey normally wasn’t particularly good with admitting and accepting weakness. He had tried to prepare him for jail by almost smashing a glass of Scotch into his skull. They had fought like wild dogs that night, pushing and shoving and kicking - but only because they cared too much about one another. They knew that they needed each other’s help, shoulders, ears. And they were only good as a team. Mike reminded Harvey of the heart and soul of cases, brought out the human aspect and stopped him when he went too far. Harvey taught Mike to sometimes maintain a healthy distance, reminded him of tactics and ethics and a work moral that Mike occasionally lacked when his heart took over and made him do or say foolish things. Together they had achieved so much and all of this was supposed to be over now? Mike gnawed on his bottom lip as he lay down on his side and put the earbuds in. Time for some distraction.

Jesus, what a dreadful noise that didn’t even qualify as music! He felt the way Harvey probably did most of the times he had to listen to his favorite artists but Nicki Minaj really did nothing to him. Maybe he was too old for that kind of pop culture to really understand it.  
But just two more songs until he heard the jingle of his by now favorite call-in show. He smiled to himself and closed his eyes, listening how the stories unfolded and transported him out of this prison for a brief moment.

Mary was suspicious of her husband’s long working hours. From all the things she was talking about, it was quite obvious that he was an investment banker, even though she tried to keep it vague. Mike could easily imagine that the poor man didn’t have the suggested affair. _Cut him some slack…_  
Thinking of his time at Pearson Specter Litt, he knew how hard it was to maintain a relationship. He himself had tried and gloriously failed quite a couple of times because he had been married to the job. Harvey had had this thing he refused to call relationship with Scotty but even though they worked in the same firm for a while, they didn’t really see each other more often than any other couple that worked in separate fields.

Then Robert talked about his love for trains and his issues with finding himself a girlfriend who understood - or God forbid even shared! - his passion. Night in, night out he would come home from work and step into a new world as soon as he opened the door to his guest room. He had 300 different models, most of them set up on this huge table and he could identify them by their sounds as soon as he set them in motion. Mike was quite sure that there was also something sexual about this, that man was so caught up in his world and talked so gently about those machines - there had to be a hidden kink behind all of this.  
Robert was so neurotic that Mike imagined Harvey in front of his inner eye impersonating him and rolling his joyful eyes, grinning his private grin, the off-guard one, while eating Chinese take out. It warmed his heart and he had to smile, while he wrapped his arm tighter around himself. He rubbed his eyes with thumb and index finger of his free hand while he allowed the fond memories to wash over him, even though they’d eventually just make him feel worse as soon as they faded away and he was still here in this cold and impersonal environment.

„Thank you, Robert! So if anyone would like to get to know this charming young man, get in touch with us, we will pass on the message! Now who’s our next guest?“  
„My name is Bruce. I’m calling to request a song for a very good friend of mine who’s a bit of an insomniac at the moment,“ the person on the line replied charmingly.  
Mike froze and held his breath.  
He’d recognize that voice out of a thousand.  
„Is there a reason for his sleeping problems? Is he under a lot of stress, your friend?“  
Mike’s entire body tensed up in surprise, the blood was rushing loudly in his ears and he had to concentrate hard on hearing everything that was said to not miss a single thing.  
„You could say so, he’s been screwed over and now he’s trying to get back on track. By force of circumstance it’s impossible for me to be there in person. But I know that he’s one of your biggest fans…“ at that, ‚Bruce‘ could hardly disguise a grin, Mike slowly relaxed and just imagined the other man sitting in his condo, sipping on his scotch.  
This so wasn’t Harvey, it was completely against his nature to talk about something private on national radio - even though he had tried to not give away any details. In addition, Mike was fully aware of how embarrassing this was for Harvey and it could only mean one thing: His friend had read between the lines, stripped the letter from all the babbling and nonsense and understood just how much Mike needed something like this. A familiar sense of comfort and care spread inside, he had really missed that.  
„Anyways, I know that he is listening right now and desperately needs some good tunes, that’s why I called in. So ‚Hi Robin, got your letter. This one is for you.. I’ll be with you as soon as I can, hang in there.‘“  
Mike’s smile widened, it almost cracked his face in two. That, on the other hand, was very Harvey. Of course he’d not just come with any alias… What a dork!  
He sighed barely audible and turned onto his back, interlaced his fingers behind his head and stared at the ceiling, curious which track he possibly could have chosen. Mike recognized the guitar and shook his head in amusement, chuckling softly to himself when Johnny Cash started singing _„I hear the train a comin’“_. Train. Funny. Robert would approve of the song! He had to force himself not to laugh out loud at this time of the night, one black eye this week had been enough .

For the first time since he got here he didn’t feel completely estranged. When he closed his eyes, he imagined lying on the floor in Harvey’s condo (the mattress was definitely way too hard to be his couch) and being lectured by the great Harvey Specter on his distinctive music style. There was some fancy food in the oven that smelled delicious, he held a bottle of beer in his hand that was lukewarm by now because he was lazy and couldn’t be bothered to move his hand and Harvey softly hummed along unconsciously.

 _„I'm stuck in Folsom prison, and time keeps draggin' on“_ Johnny Cash basically recited his letter to Harvey and Mike shook his head to himself. So many people had been in his place before and so many would be here long after he’d be gone, he could do this. He enjoyed every single note of the song and basically soaked it up before they’d change to plastic pop again, turned into the direction of New York - if he wasn’t completely confused it should be to his right - and sent a little „thank you.“ straight to Manhattan. Harvey had asked him to hang in there. And he would.

_Far from Folsom prison, that's where I want to stay_   
_And I'd let that lonesome whistle blow my blues away....._


	3. Chapter 3

_Dear Harvey,_

_I can’t believe you did that! How many glasses of that expensive Scotch did you have to down before calling in? And Bruce Wayne? Really? If we’re following up on that Batman theme, I would rather consider myself Talia al Ghul than Robin, don’t you think? Pit and all? Of course that also means two things: A) I’d be a woman - I’m totally down with that, genders are so yesteryear (don’t tell anyone I wrote that and you do know I’m kidding, right? RIGHT?) - and B) You ought to be taking care of Damian now. Please tell me he will be safe while I try to do the same trick that once worked as a child. (I shall not write what the deed is because I’m not sure that the officer reading this is into DC comics - or would understand that I’m still joking here. But you get the drift. Officer. Really. Don’t worry, I behave!)_

_I decided that a diary isn’t the worst idea, that way I can keep track, you know sometimes I don’t even know which day of the week it is because a Wednesday doesn’t differ from a Friday unless you’re taking part in all of those programs they have around here. My CO (that’s ‚correctional officer‘) wants me to engage in social activities but at the moment I’m not entirely sure what I wanna do. Definitely nothing religious, I’ve had my fair share of God and baby Jesus in my life and it hasn’t really helped me at all, has it? (Sorry, father, I know you meant well…) There’s a band project - have I ever told you that I used to play the guitar? Maybe that could be fun. But the idea sounds really corny. They also have a piano in here and apparently there are lessons. Of course that only confirms that I’m more the brainy slash artistic - read feminine - kind of inmate and might encourage people to shove me around even more but that’s something that could be interesting and I don’t see many people use that instrument so I wouldn’t have to battle anyone for my slot._

_I could study and actually get a real degree for a change. How does that sound? That’s one of the more appealing ideas, to be quite honest. Not a law degree though, that would be frustrating, knowing that I can't follow up on that once I’m outta here. Psychology maybe? Or social worker? Or I don’t know… counselor of some sort. Then again… Being, well faking to be a lawyer has already taken its toll on me at times, you know that it has (hmpf. that it did. Past tense. Not present perfect. The present is definitely not fucking perfect anyway.) You always told me not to get too invested. Well, that’s not who I am and so I’m not sure if working for other people who have been wronged in their lives wouldn’t be too much. What do you think? I know that I have all the time in the world to figure it out. That’s all I seem to write these days „all the time in the world“. But right now it’s weird. Almost like in transit. But in the meantime, the in between time, if you work your thing, then I’ll work mine._

_I just reread what I’ve written so far and would like to apologize for the amount of brackets used in this letter. Somehow my mind is a little fickle at the moment, I can't seem to concentrate on one thought longer than two seconds. It’s quite weird, I thought that the pace here would slow my brain down within a day or two but what’s happening at the moment is quite the opposite, I’m almost scared to implode. Maybe it’s the side effect of having too much time to think?_

_I heard that there will be new inmates arriving next week which means that I’d no longer be the new kid. I quite like to get rid of the extra attention that’s on me at the moment. Most guys don’t really bother me, they mind their own business and just keep to themselves but I’ve noticed gang structures around. There’s contraband being passed around regularly (or so I heard, officer, I don’t really know for a fact who does what) and I try to keep to myself to not get involved in any politics. It’s hard to tell who is good and who is not, it’s all a little shady and I know that I probably seem like a chicken for refusing to accept a lot of the stuff that’s being offered to me but for now, I’m rather cautious, even though that probably insults a couple of people. Ted told me not to worry when people offer you stuff that’s floating around here but I don’t know yet if I trust him, so I’m pretty much on guard all the time, even though I try to appear social and at ease._

_Definitely learnt that looking into people’s eyes is NOT appreciated around here, they almost jump at you as soon as you do. And I also figured out that if somebody who’s been there longer than you have (which is pretty much everyone at the moment) asks you to do something, you better not question it. Especially if they work in a powerful position - that means the commissary, the kitchen, as a driver, at the office, those kind of places. Because you don’t want rotten food or be late for an appointment, stuff like that… The other day I accidentally insulted the guy who takes care of the program assignments (the place here is basically run entirely by the inmates, you wouldn’t believe it) and would you know it: He gave me a wrong time for my meeting and now I have an official warning for violating rule 310 for a so-called „moderate severity level prohibited act“. One more incident like that and they might revoke privileges like visiting or telephone or all sorts of things that make life a little more bearable around here. So yet another reason I rather sit at my desk and write to you and prefer solving crosswords than spending time at the billiard table with total strangers. I just gotta be careful, I’d really hate it if you couldn’t come to see me because somebody fucked with me. Thanks for what you said, by the way. You know, the „screwed over“ bit. Meant a lot. I know that loyalty is everything to you but still… to hear it like that. You know. Kinda needed that that evening. Which you could possibly tell from my whiny letter._

_I hope you’re not worried about me. I mean, there are better days and there are worse days and yeah, I know that I’ve refused to talk to you - or pretty much anyone at the moment - on the phone because I need to get used to all of this but it’s getting easier. Promised. Today I’m having a good day. Yesterday was okay, too. What a good night’s sleep can do to you!_

_Hanging in here…_

_Greetings from The Pit  
Talia/Robin/Mike/Rick_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talia al Ghul is not meantioned in this chapter because she is the occasional lover of Batman (maybe there'll be a follow up on this one later though - as the story progresses, if you know what I mean ;)) but because she was meant to be the only person to ever escape the prison known as "The Pit" when she was a child. Thought that fitted well... Damian is the child she has with Bruce Wayne.


	4. Chapter 4

„Sorry, Ross, no mail for you.“  
„Hate to disappoint you, kid, but we’ve run out of shampoo for the week.“  
„It will take three weeks to order new guitar strings.“  
Mike couldn’t believe how even the small things threw him off track these days. All those tiny disappointments and problems added up and grew and grew on him, even though serving time was supposed to teach you the exact opposite: To be humble and just accept that you’re lucky you’re not dead (or even worse: in here for life).  
Still.  
When your happiness depended on something as simple as a new book or being able to wash your hair, those news were a disaster.  
„Fucking amateurs in this goddamn place,“ he muttered to himself as he determinedly strode through the dormitory, automatically grabbing the headphones and his radio to throw himself onto the bunk. Ted knew better than to ask what was wrong, Mike had been in a shitty mood all week and the fact that his stupid sudoku mail subscription hadn’t come through and left him with even less to do to kill time irritated him to such an extent that he had almost picked a fight with his bunk mate earlier today, so he rather turned his back on him and minded his own business.

Mike was still fuming, the blood in his system boiling and he tried to cool himself down but the more time he spent here, the harder it got. Sometimes he could almost understand why some people got into fistfights over the last piece of cheese and that thought alone made him miserable and uneasy. Nobody outside the system could possibly comprehend it, get what it was like to be trapped without an outlet and with all those frustrations and negative feelings bottled up inside. If he was already this worked up over petty things, he didn’t want to know what could possibly happen if something that really mattered went wrong. No, he couldn’t go there just now. He gnawed on his lip. He considered himself a good person and he would do everything he could to make it out of here in one piece and as a better rather than a worse man.

„This is Nate with the beard and you’re listening to WDAQ, your station on 98.3 FM.“  
Mike closed his eyes, he wasn’t sure he could concentrate on the emission tonight, his mind kept wandering off to all the things that went wrong in this place. He had been here for little over a month now, his money had only gone through after two weeks and his shoes were still too big because all of his size were used - he couldn’t help that he had such regular feet, could he? - there had been a massive number of miscounts lately due to new staff that didn’t know what they were doing and in general he was just pissed off. Wasn’t this supposed to be a correctional facility and not just a storage room for criminals? He punched the wall in frustration only to realize that instead of helping him to vent his anger, all it had done was bruise his knuckles. He growled in frustration until Ted pushed his mattress up with his foot and grunted „Watch it, mate, if we get a warning because you got your period, I swear I’ll make your life miserable!“ It was more a friendly warning than a threat but Mike pulled himself together - even though it was difficult.

„Oh, I see that we have a second timer here. Hey Bruce, good to see your name pop up on my screen so soon after your last call. You’ve caused quite some stir on our Facebook page, let me tell you!“  
Mike’s eyes widened in surprise.  
Again?  
Really?  
He turned up the volume to maximum before rubbing his aching hand.

„Hello Nate, thanks for the introduction. Have I? How so?“  
Harvey sounded different than the first time around. Mike could tell that he felt more prepared - even though he had done his best to hide it behind his charming and suave front but they’ve worked together for so many years that it hadn’t been left unnoticed. There was something else there that Mike couldn’t quite place yet, he wished he could see his face to figure out what it was.

„Well, mostly because of your song choice, pal. Our listeners were wondering if it had a metaphorical meaning…“ he didn’t finish his train of thoughts but it was obvious what he was insinuating.  
„Well, pal,“ he stressed the word in his typical don’t-call-me-dude voice and Mike’s anger immediately subsided. He grinned as he curled up on himself and let Harvey’s voice take him to a friendlier place.  
Somehow it was easy to listen to him, even though it hurt because he was so far away and they couldn’t talk in person. Mike still didn’t dare to. He knew he’d break down if he used that phone down the hall - if not during the phone call, then definitely the second he’d have to hang up. And there were so many people standing around, he couldn’t risk that. He had to maintain his composure and make people believe that this hole couldn’t break him.  
But. Listening. Hearing this voice, knowing what annoyed Harvey and what made him happy just by the way he said certain things - it was almost like being in the office with him and watching him do his job.

„Well, pal, no, we are not talking about mental prisons. This is the real deal. But Robin’s a good guy. I know what you’re thinking. What most of your listeners will be thinking. You’ll be thinking of that scene in The Shawshank Redemption, _Everyone in here is innocent._ and it’s your damn right to think whatever the hell you wanna think. But I don’t care, he shouldn’t be in there.“

Mike swallowed hard. Harvey was emotional tonight, he wasn’t doing well, that’s what he had sensed. That’s what wasn’t quite right. He spoke a notion too quickly, a little too off-guarded. Even though he didn’t shout or raise his voice or anything, Mike wondered if it was a good idea that his friend had called in tonight. He had done it for him, damn sure he had, but he’d probably regret this later.  
„Oh Harvey…“ he sighed softly to himself and rubbed his forehead.

„Bruce, nobody was insinuating anything. We don’t know what position you are in. I understand that it’s tough when somebody you care about is being locked away. I am not here to judge, just to listen. If you wanna share your thoughts, that is fine. If you just want to call in to request a song for your buddy in there, that is just as alright. Just know that on WDAQ we offer our listeners the chance to share their thoughts with others. Maybe we have a bunch of people out there who have been in your position and could offer advice.“

„Hell, no!“ Harvey replied immediately.  
Mike wanted to crawl through the radio transmitter and pull him into a tight hug. He sounded fierce and stable but something told him he also had had a shitty day.  
„No, I don’t believe in support groups and all that kum ba ya bullshit. When somebody puts a gun to your head, I’m sure that none of the one hundred and forty-nine options that get you out of that situation include holding each other by the hand and forming a circle to will it away.“

Nate asked seriously now „Robin put a gun to your head? Is that why he is in prison?“  
The momentary silence was the result of speechlessness. On the count of three, both him and Harvey started laughing. What a dense fucker! Nate had just confirmed every single prejudice they had always had. He was a good host when it came to train enthusiasts and cheating husbands but that’s where it ended. Metaphors clearly weren’t his thing…

„No, Nate, now I was indeed using a picture to illustrate a point. Never mind, sorry for my reaction, I’m thankful for your show right now. But if you had met Robin, you’d know that he’s not quite the gangster stereotype you have in mind right now. His fashion sense is a crime though.“ Harvey slowly calmed down and Mike couldn’t stop himself from shouting out „DUDE! Just cause I don’t dress like an old man?“  
Ted kicked the mattress once more „Last warning kid! Stop talking to yourself, I’m trying to sleep!“  
Mike didn’t reply, he was too occupied listening.

„Now, your Robin does sound like a good person, I give you that. Even though I still don’t really know where you were going with those gun images. But we can talk about that some other time, if you like. I’m sure our audience would love to get updates on how life is treating the both of you. Do you want to say something to him?“

Your Robin.  
Bruce’s Robin.  
Harvey’s Robin.  
Harvey’s Mike.  
The blond man lay on his bunk bed, still curled into a ball and smiled to himself. That thought should weird him out a little but it didn’t. They were a unit, a team, special. He trusted nobody else more than he trusted Harvey. He felt a certain sense of longing that he couldn’t quite explain. Well, he didn’t have friends around here, so it was probably normal to crave for the people who know you inside out and would never betray you, right?

„Yes. I do, thank you.“ Harvey cleared his throat and his voice changed ever so slightly, Mike wasn’t sure anyone but him would even pick up on that, „Robin. I got your second letter. Keep them coming. That quote from _Five Minutes of Funk_ that you hid in there? Yeah, I got that. You tried to test me on my music taste? So how did I score figuring that one out?“  
Mike could hear him smile briefly before he continued „And I see what you did there considering the album title. Were you even born when that was released? That and your new nickname - smart! You definitely have too much time on your hand to think about crap like that.“

Nate wanted to butt in and hear all about it, it was obvious from the little sound he made there but Harvey chose to ignore it and rather continued „Damian? The spoilt brat he’s always been but I’m keeping him in check. And now you wonder which song I’ve picked for you this time?“

This was Nate’s queue to remind everyone that he was the host on this show by saying „Oh yes, we are all wondering what it might be, Bruce.“  
„I wish I could say that I heard this on the radio and thought it was appropriate but nowadays good music only seems to get played when a musical genius dies.“  
Mike chuckled at the little side blow there. His palms were sweaty and his face flushed and once again he was glad that this call-in show wasn’t broadcasted during the day so he had this all to himself.  
„So, Robin, today’s song for you is _Changes_ by David Bowie. There might be a million dead-end streets out there but we’ll find the one that isn’t. And I don’t care what the others see. You’re real.“

Mike swallowed hard. Those words went right through to the core, to the things he’d tried to bury inside of him to toughen up. Harvey never said these kind of things straight to his face, there was something that stopped them from being one-hundred percent frank with one another, pride, fear, compassion - the trial had torn down many of the walls they had continuously kept in place over all those years but to hear him say something like that - it was still special. Rare. Something he’d cherish.  
Harvey had just told him to be the way he was and that had made him raw and vulnerable.  
Confusion took over, how could he be this happy and sad at the same time?  
Smile but with tears threatening to spill over?  
Hot and cold?  
David Bowie’s voice started to worm its way through his body and mind and despite everything he knew that he wasn’t alone.  
He knew that everything would be different once he’d leave these confinements. That he’d have to question everything he had done before and figure out how to do better. But even though he knew that this shouldn’t matter as much to him as it did:  
To Harvey, he wasn’t a fraud. Not a fake lawyer.  
To Harvey, he was real.

_Just gonna have to be a different man_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've just created a YouTube playlist with the tracks that Harvey uses. Since this story will be a little longer, I thought it might be a nice touch. You can find it [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL0bS_p-67Sb9y-e59GfLkwBXVLlYVCKEt). So far it's still very empty of course, I don't wanna spoil anything :) 
> 
> Oh and [this](http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xb4tp1_whodini-5-minutes-of-funk_music) is the song that Mike quoted in his letter (with "In the meantime...") from the 1984 album "Escape".


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your wonderful feedback so far and for liking this story, I'm quite surprised and overwhelmed by the amount of love I've received for it, from kudos to comments, from people asking me to post another chapter soon to a gorgeous GIF set on Tumblr. Of course it also comes with a healthy amount of pressure and the fear to fuck it up but I'm very thankful xxx

_Dear Harvey,_

_Is this the beginning of a wonderful tradition? I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t like the idea. Not only do you provide me with the only three minutes of decent music a day - there should be a law against David Guetta. Wait, is there one? An anti-torture paragraph? I bet that if I dig deep enough in my head, I will come up with something. Would you represent me? Please? Then again. If they shut down the station, I’d be out of my happy hour every evening. So maybe I’ll just try to think of my happy place until I hear any instrument resembling a guitar again that takes away my pain._

_Anyway. Where was I? Oh yes, not only do you brighten my day with good music, it’s also quite good to hear you, you know? To know you’re hanging in there, too. I mean, I know you, you’re probably sitting there and trying to figure out if there’s a way to get me out of here, any precedence that allows you to pull a stunt on the system. And I appreciate it, I really do. But get yourself some rest, okay? It’s not your fault. None of this is. It’s a crime that I committed and I guess sooner or later I’ll get over that, too. Without thinking that grammy would be very disappointed in me now. Yeah, yeah, I know, she was a tough cookie but I’ve spent too many hours thinking about these things. She always thought it was Trevor’s fault but was it really? I got myself from one mess into the next, I guess I could do damage to my own future without anyone else’s doing…_

_Hell, I don’t even know where that one just came from, I’m really okay right now. I think I told you that there would be new inmates coming in and that I wouldn’t be the ignorant rookie anymore. Well, guess what: Those inmates came from another place, so I’m still the newest kid around. Actually, most of them were supposed to stay in a higher security facility but before they can get moved, they are in transit at our place. To be honest: I don’t like that very much, it usually means trouble, I heard. So yeah, I guess I’ll just try to stay in my own housing unit as much as I can, do some writing, some reading, some sudoku - I’ve just gotten sucked into these logic puzzles. You know, those ‚neighbor A has a cat and lives next to the girl who doesn’t have a boyfriend. Neighbor C’s house has a green roof but they are not the one with the dog. Who lives in house 4 (and would they possibly be interested in dating the girl that lives next to the cat lover)?‘. Okay, I made the last bit up - I seem to be doing that a lot lately, it’s dangerous because my CO thinks I don’t take things seriously. But my brain just does it, I guess it derives from all the boredom, a way to save some of those screaming brain cells… Anyways, if you happen to find some of those logic puzzles, send them over (or ask Donna to add them to her next parcel), I would highly appreciate that._

_How many months ago did David Bowie die? Four? Five? It seems like a lifetime ago. You’re so right about what you said concerning his musical genius, he will be missed. There is this guy in here who claims to have been the heroin dealer of Susann Bennett, you know, the girlfriend of Lemmy Kilmister who died from an overdose. I’m not sure I believe him, I mean, he is ancient, so it might well be true and he does speak with a British accent but everybody here thinks he is schizophrenic, probably as a result from fixing… So sad, I always feel the desire to save everyone but you need to stay to yourself or otherwise they drag you into their little power games and I’m definitely not going to do anything to prolong my sentence! (Officer, you hear that? I’m nice, so how about some extra visiting points?)_

_I am going to ask something and you don’t have to reply. Especially not on the show if you don’t feel comfortable doing that, maybe we can talk about this in person once I’m allowed to see you (they say it might be one more week until they’ve finally processed my list, were you my brother, things would be differently, with family it’s always easier than with friends).  
Anyway. My question: How is everyone? How is Donna? She always adds these little notes to her books where she writes why I might like a certain story and what made her think it would be a good idea for me to read it. But that’s it, she keeps things strictly at the book club level and I get it, I mean, if things are difficult for you guys, she would probably not want to share it with me because she’d think that I couldn’t take it. I’m asking because… you did sound a little off your game when you called in last time. And I know I shouldn’t even talk about this because I know you don’t like to elaborate these things but it’s the only way I can communicate with you now and maybe I’m too honest and I’m most certainly rambling but… _

_Well, I don’t really know where I was going with my last sentence. I guess, I just want you to know that this is a two way street. You don’t have to be the one cheering me up all the time. PSL is crumbling to pieces and knowing how much that firm has always meant to you, I need you to know that you can talk to me. I am happy to listen (and trust me: I’m not going anywhere…). I have weaker days but I also have stronger ones and I want to be your friend just the way that you are mine. Okay? You even get the permission to share it on the show, if that helps (I felt like pointing that out after rereading the former paragraph which sounded a little as if I wanted to prohibit that. I don’t, okay, I just know that these things aren’t usually your cup of tea but desperate times etc. pp.) And I also didn’t meant it in your so-called kumbaya way but in the „I know that Mike is listening and he won’t judge me“ way._

_I’m sorry that I still cannot talk to you on the phone. I guess I’m a coward. I most certainly am actually. It’s just not private. There are all these people waiting for you to finally finish what you have to say and I’m not sure I like that very much. And yes, I know that this call-in show is even less private and I know how little you liked it when we were still listening to that together. But desperate times (- see above for the ending of that sentence)._

_You know, this will probably come out wrong or weird or something but you have no idea how much it means to me that you’re doing this for me. I’ve always known I could trust you 100% and not just that, I knew you’d never abandon me. But this is more than I expected. I don’t know what I expected but. You’re the best friend anyone could have. Don’t ever, ever think that you’re not there for me. (God, I’m so honest today, one could think I was drunk. If ONLY! Please have a glass of scotch on me, I miss it a little). I’m gonna wrap this up now before I write even mushier stuff, you are a lifesaver. Literally. You have no idea._

_Thank you.  
M._

_PS: I guess in the end I did get a little thoughtful. I’m sorry, I need to work on my cheerful writing style…  
PPS: I would also like to know how the others are doing, not just Donna, that might have come across wrong here.  
PPPS: Did Louis work things out with Sheila? I hope she knows that I’m not mad at her, it was just a case of extremely bad luck, wasn’t it?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's been too long. The fact that Suits isn't available in my country this time pissed me off and I didn't want to let it out on my characters... so I waited until I wasn't passive-aggressive towards them anymore. Hope you still enjoy this little fic.

_“There are 100 prisoners in solitary cells. There's a central living room with one light bulb; this bulb is initially off. No prisoner can see the light bulb from his or her own cell. Every day, the warden picks a prisoner equally at random, and that prisoner visits the living room. While there, the prisoner can toggle the bulb if he or she wishes._

_Also, the prisoner has the option of asserting that all 100 prisoners have been to the living room by now. If this assertion is false, all 100 prisoners are shot. However, if it is indeed true, all prisoners are set free. Thus, the assertion should only be made if the prisoner is 100% certain of its validity._

_The prisoners are allowed to get together one night in the courtyard, to discuss a plan. What plan should they agree on, so that eventually, someone will make a correct assertion?”_

“100. Do you think that the number matters?” Mike looked up from his logic puzzle, frowning in concentration. He was leaning against the wall, sitting on his bunk bed and felt relaxed for the first time this week. All the stress, the fights over unimportant stuff, the more serious arguments regarding things that mattered, gang structures, contraband, illegal operations – he was so sick of those, all he wanted to do was get through his sentence in one piece and be reunited with the people that he cared about. Thankfully, his bunk mate seemed to see things the same way. They got along, that wasn’t a given in these walls.

Ted who had been busying himself sorting his books all evening - he had quite an impressive collection by now that left Danbury’s librarian green with envy - stopped for a second and grinned up at him “I know that one, it’s a prison favourite. I cannot help you, Ross, I don’t think anyone around here has solved it… bloody lack of internet. Even though I’m quite sure it’s got to do with maths. Didn’t you tell me you’re good with numbers?”

Mike scratched the back of his head and read the text again, mumbling to himself “100 prisoners in solitary cells. Hmmm,” he stared into space, “well, the solitary cells are part of the structure of the puzzle, I get that much. Otherwise the setting wouldn’t work.” This was by far the most difficult one he’d tried to crack to date and he’d wasted quite a lot of paper scribbling down possible solutions. Soon he’d have to buy a new notepad since he didn’t want to run out of sheets; writing to Harvey was very often the only thing that got him through the days.

The dark-haired, slightly Latino looking man he shared his cube with turned off his own little light and lay down on top of his blanket, mumbling “Einstein, I hate to interrupt your little genius but you should get ready for bed, that new ward is a pain in the ass when it comes to curfew and all, we don’t wanna face disciplinary actions, I’m quite looking forward to seeing my baby girl… Besides, isn’t it about time for that radio show of yours?” Mike turned a little so he could have a look at the clock on the wall and realised that he had already missed the first five minutes of the call in show.  
His heart raced.  
FUCK. Fuckfuckfuck.  
Why in God’s name did the concept of time mean so little (but at the same time so much) in here? Why had he lost the feeling of how long a minute was, an hour, a day?  
What if he had missed him? What if Harvey had called in today and he hadn’t heard it?  
He’d not be able to forgive himself. Especially after he had encouraged him to talk!

He quickly reached under his pillow and shoved the headphones roughly into his ears, pulling the tiny power switch and let himself slide down onto his back, hoping he wasn’t too late.

“…familiar voice. People have commented on your music taste and of course we want to hear how you are dealing with the absence of Robin.”  
Mike’s breathing hitched. Oh God!!! THAT HAD BEEN CLOSE. Goddamnit… He inwardly thanked Ted for reminding him. One day he would tell him. About Harvey. Rachel. Donna. Louis. All of it. What had happened, what he had done, that he had committed fraud after fraud and crime after crime, dug himself a deeper and deeper hole and almost risked taking the people he loved down with him. Actually. Not almost…

“I guess we’ve established by now that I’m not the typical helpline call in guy, so I won’t disappoint you or any of your listeners by getting all mushy on you. Talking to the coffee cart guy is more efficient than attending the ‘Lord, my friend is in prison’ support group, if you know what I mean,” Harvey sounded smug and way more confident than the last time Mike had heard him, there was no doubt that he had definitely visited the coffee cart guy recently because he wasn’t depressed, he wasn’t drunk, he was stoned. There was a grin in his voice, he seemed to be in a celebratory mood and Mike felt both a huge sense of relief and the longing to be there with him, smoking some weed, sharing some stories about their past and giggling the night away the way they had done a couple of times before.  
“But I have a feeling that Robin would like to know how we’re doing, his friends and family,” Harvey added. Was that why he had smoked before calling in? So he could be open and answer the questions Mike had asked in his mail? Maybe… “Well… You know what they say: _screws fall out all the time, the world is an imperfect place._ \- but don’t worry, I’m pretty good at screwing.”

Nobody in their right mind would miss the smirk in Harvey’s voice at that one. Mike felt himself blush and he couldn’t even explain why but that statement did something to him. “Idiot,” he muttered to himself but he couldn’t stop smiling. Harvey was okay today – okay, with a little help from his friends… but that was alright, marihuana had helped Mike so many times over the years that he couldn’t condemn it. And knowing the other man, he wouldn’t let it become a regular habit.

“Rookie, I got some news for you, guess what? You’ll have a visitor on Monday. Now I could have come tomorrow or on Sunday but I didn’t want to take away too many of your precious visiting points and I know that weekends count double. I hope it works with your working hours that I’ll be there first thing in the morning. Now I might not be good with mornings in general but I trust that I won’t snap at you for not getting proper coffee beforehand. I wish I could bring you some, I know that the stuff they serve you where you are is pretty awful.” Harvey was almost rambling now, Mike blamed it on the drugs but the news kicked him right in the guts. For weeks he had wanted to hear exactly that and now he wasn’t sure he was ready. He had to appear okay. Harvey couldn’t worry about him. No black eye, no bruise, he needed to make sure to stay out of trouble for the next couple of days – even more so than usual. Because he knew that Harvey couldn’t stand the fact to see him in pain and not being able to do anything about it. And yes, he had been as honest as he could have been in those letters but there had been a couple of things he’d avoided pointing out. For example that this place could be dangerous when people figured out who you were…

He had called him ‘rookie’. On public radio. Stoned but still.  
He was coming over.  
He would be sitting right across the table.  
Mike could hug him.

He broke out in a sweat, unable to focus for a second and missing the next part of the conversation. Nate asked something, Harvey replied but it all seemed very far away. He only tuned back in when Harvey said “Robin, I promise I’ll answer those questions. In person. Anything you want to know, alright? Just not tonight.”  
The radio DJ wrapped up the conversation “I hope you will continue calling in even if you get to see each other, your fan base is growing daily and we would be sorry to see you go. So tell us: Which classic have you chosen for tonight?”  
Harvey seemed a little taken back that it was already over. He almost stammered when he replied “Oh… yeah… the song! Tonight’s track is yet another oldie but goldie. It takes us back to the 70s, years before Robin was born. Please play The Clash with “I Fought The Law”. While the lyrics don’t necessarily fit in its entirety, I believe that the line _I fought the law – and the law won_ pretty much sums up the last couple of years. It’s been a rollercoaster ride but Robin once said that he’d do it all again, even knowing how it all turned out. And yeah. So would I.”

Mike soaked up the song, knowing that Harvey was listening to it at the exact same time in his condo, smoking a joint and thinking of him. They would see each other in less than a week – less than 60 hours. Suddenly, it all seemed to happen too fast and too slow at the same time. He wasn’t ready, how could he ever be ready to face the man he owed everything to, dressed like a criminal.  
Being a criminal.  
Locked in a cage.  
His reality hit him hard but at the same time there was nothing he wanted more.

_Breakin' rocks in the hot sun  
I fought the law and the law won_

_I needed money 'cause I had none  
I fought the law and the law won.._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the playlist is updated! Find it [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL0bS_p-67Sb9y-e59GfLkwBXVLlYVCKEt).


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful feedback. This is a chapter I've wanted to write for weeks, it was the one I was looking forward to writing the most and I'm glad that it turned out quite canon considering the last three EPs that were aired.

_Harvey,_

_I’m such a bloody idiot. I don’t know where to start. I’m so incredibly sorry for what I did today and I wish I could turn back time and undo it. I knew you were happy to see me and and I was looking forward to it, too, and then… I happened, I guess. My stupid self. All those emotions I have built up over the past few weeks. I know that you just wanted to be there and talk about unimportant stuff so I’d not worry about what I did to all of you and I should have respected that.  
The fact that I exploded right in your face kills me because I robbed us off the chance to properly see each other. _

_I just really missed you and those circumstances… I had come from a stupid strip search and felt awful in my clothes and you were just. You looked the way you always do. Tired but still Harvey Specter and I felt so small… And I wish you hadn’t seen that bruise on my face. These things happen and I was angry that you had to see it and worried you’d try to get me out of the mess I’m in and fight my fights for me and yes, I know that it’s just the way you are. That you make things your responsibility because you don’t want the people you care about to get hurt._

_You came in and the past just came crushing down on me, you know? I wanted to leave that place with you and it really made me understand that you have always had faith in me even when I didn’t and had I listened to you instead of taking the deal, I wouldn’t be where I am right now. You’ve saved my life so many times, why do I keep doubting you, can you tell me that? And why do I keep fighting you the way I did today? Why do I shout at you and push you in a corner so you feel the urge to defend yourself and then there we are, being mad at each other?_

_And this time… This time I basically pushed you and you didn’t do anything about it. I’ve never seen that side of you, you know? It’s scary. It really is. I press and press and press where it hurts but you just won’t give in. You won’t break. You’re just a rock. Even though I can tell what it does to you when I’m the way I am, you’re still a rock. How do you do that? And why don’t you hate me? Why did you only leave when I got up to leave myself? God. I hate myself right now. Please come back. Please don’t stay away for good, I would understand if you did but… I was fighting to survive in here knowing that I have a friend by my side waiting on the outside and sending me positive messages on the radio and now I’m worried that I’m alone. Am I?_

_I think I’ve only seen you cry once. You fight and fight and fight until you break. Like that panic attack you had the day I came into your office. I don’t want to receive a call from Donna saying you had a heart attack or a stroke or something so please, please look after yourself. Says the man who just kicked you metaphorically over and over when you were on the ground. You should have fought back…_

_Harvey. You need to know that I didn’t think all the things I said to you. None of them. I know you care and yes, I’m aware that it’s a cheap shot to say stuff like “You’re not in here, you have no idea what it’s like”. Because you get me anyway. I’m telling you this now because I’m terrified to have scared you off. You get me better than anyone else and your call in show idea was brilliant. I wanted to thank you in person for it but then… like I said, I happened. As a child I sometimes would do very stupid things when I was angry. They called me ticking time bomb at times. It got a lot better over the years but I guess you witnessed a revival. Sorry._

_What I was trying to say between the lines when I was shouting was that I’m scared - a lot more than I let on in my letters to you usually - and very lonely. Incredibly lonely. They don’t keep you very busy in here, even though my kitchen job has me occupied for a little while and it gives you way too much time on your hands to let your mind wander to dark places. You get paranoid because you never know who to trust, you watch every step, you try to be on good terms with your bunk or cell mate so they won’t turn on you and… it sounds stupid but I also miss my bike. The speed, the freedom, the rush. I miss small things and larger things and more than anything, I miss my best friend. And his movie quotes. And his sarcasm. And his bragging._

_I don’t know how to do this. I wish I could apologize in person so… even if you never want to see me again after my outburst today (am I overdramatic? In here everything is so existential! - I have a feeling I wrote that line before. At least once, maybe twice.), please come to see me one last time. Please. Or… don’t go away? I am selfish but I’m begging you to forgive me._

_Yours  
Mike_


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience, one chapter a week (or every 1.5 weeks) seems realistic with three running fics... I'll try to keep it on a weekly basis. Novemberhush has beta'd this chapter and she's done a great job xxx

Mike reread the letter he had just written to Harvey. Maybe he should toss it. Rewrite it when he was less emotional, less upset. But he had fucked up today. That fight had been so unnecessary and in reality all he had wanted to do was tell the other man how thankful he was for everything he had done for him. Instead, he had been unfair, loud, bitchy and just a horrible, ungrateful bastard. And he had just left Harvey!

Before he could change his mind for good, Mike quickly stuffed the paper in the addressed and stamped envelope and got up to send it out.  
Four hours since impact.  
240 minutes.  
14,400 seconds.  
He prayed that the letter wouldn’t take too long to be processed, he needed Harvey to hear his apology. Christ, he needed Harvey. Full stop. He scratched his arm as he made his way back to his cube, almost bumping into Ted who frowned at him, “Kid, you look awful! Did anyone rub you up the wrong way? Trouble I should know about?”

He shook his head and frowned, “No, nothing to know about. Trouble with someone in the real world.”

Ted nodded knowingly and leaned against the outer wall of their cube, “The visitor, eh?”

“Yeah, the visitor,” Mike replied curtly and climbed on to his bed, in no mood to talk this through with him right now.

His bunk mate turned a little to look at him surprisingly openly, “First visits are always tough. Too much time in here to build up this image of what’s gonna happen when you meet your folks. And then they sit there and you just feel terribly guilty and like the criminal you are - I get it, we’ve all been there. Don’t worry, next time it’ll be easier.”

Mike sighed quietly, “I don’t know if there will be a next time.”

Ted smirked now. “Kid, trust me. If you’re that worked up about your visitor, they will be just as worked up about it. And if they’re not, they’re not worth it.”

“They are worth it,” Mike replied defensively and turned his back on the other man. He wasn’t up for discussion right now, all he wanted to do was sleep for a long, long, long time and then hopefully wake up to a letter from Harvey. Or a visitor’s request. Or anything. He had fucked it up. Badly. And he had to use all his strength to not hyperventilate or break down right now. No, he could do this. He was strong enough. He needed to get through those days until he knew…

For seemingly forever, Mike tried to sleep but when he realized that that wasn’t going to happen, he attempted to take his mind off that awful meeting by working on the stupid prisoner riddle that he still hadn’t solved. _“There are 100 prisoners in solitary cells. There's a central living room with one light bulb…”_ \- Maybe they should have talked about the logic puzzle instead of the fact that Mike looked awful and Harvey had tried to come up with ways to break him out of this place. Maybe they should have joked about the awful food in here instead of discussing how the firm was doing? Maybe they should have come up with creative ideas to pass boring hours instead of…  
Mike’s mind trailed off again.  
He inhaled deeply and stared at the wall next to his bed that was so familiar to him now that he recognized certain patterns, holes, cracks. It was strangely comforting. Almost like home. He had run his index finger along pretty much all of them listening to that radio show just to keep his hand busy. Had imagined former inmates doing the exact same thing, wondering what they had been in for.  
Had anyone lying on this very bed killed someone - if not literally then by stealing all their money and thus starving them to death?  
Had they been wrongfully convicted?  
How many people in this place were actually innocent?

Mike held his breath.  
Five hours since impact.  
300 minutes.  
18,000 seconds.  
Every single one filled with guilt and regret. He rubbed his face. Time passed so slowly and even worse than the usual boredom was the feeling of helplessness he was dealing with now. He couldn’t get out, couldn’t increase the speed of time to get through to Harvey. All he could do was wait. He reached for his radio, it was late, dark and he was so desperate that he’d even deal with Nicki Minaj or Taylor Swift… Mike put the headphones in and turned on WDAQ, just to hear the last lines of Robin Thicke’s “Blurred Lines” (Robin, HA!). Hadn’t that song been the cause for a lawsuit? He turned on his back and tried to remember the details, the words ’copyright infringement’ jumped to his head. And a statement by Thicke that he had been high when they wrote the song. God, he wished he had access to google right now because he was suddenly very curious about whatever happened to that stupid claim. Another thing him and Harvey could have talked about (had he listened to the song before visitation of course). But no. That also hadn’t happened.

The music didn’t get any better. Bieber. Jason Derulo - which reminded Mike of that awful joke where Sean Paul and Jason Derulo meet in a bar and have a conversation in which they just repeatedly say their names - Kesha, Pitbull, Flo Rida… the who's who of awful pop music. And in a way Mike felt depressed about knowing all their names by now. He had definitely spent too much time listening to the radio in here!  
Just when he was about to fall asleep, he heard the jingle to Nate’s show and stayed tuned in. Maybe other people’s problems could take his mind off his own.  
It kinda worked for a while, even though there was a pain lingering in his chest that was a constant reminder of what had happened six hours ago. 360 minu… God, he needed to stop this.

“And what would this show be without our two favorite superheroes - I can’t believe I didn’t notice that Bruce and Robin were aliases; somebody on Facebook pointed it out. Well, I would like to blame it on being more of the ’The Hangover’ kinda guy.”  
Mike sat up straight on his bed and tried to breathe normally. No way. Harvey wouldn’t have. Oh God, Mike had already posted that letter! Oh shit. Mike wasn’t prepared for this. It wasn’t happening, was it?

“Hello Nate!”

Okay. Harvey would have.  
Intoxicated, he would do pretty much anything these days, Mike noticed with growing concern.

“Hi Bruce, I feel a little silly calling you that now that I know it’s not your real name….”

“You got the combined intelligence of the United States’ finest listeners behind you, I trusted you’d figure it out sooner or later. But let me tell you something: You need to work on your movie list.”

Mike bit his nail. Harvey was very drunk, his voice was slurred and his timing off and Mike couldn’t call Donna or Jessica to just run into the room and rip the phone out of his hand. He balled his hands into fists, unable to stop the inevitable crash that was about to happen right before his eyes - or rather ears.

“While you are certainly right, ’Bruce’, I have a feeling that you didn’t call tonight to talk about movies. You don’t sound well. What happened? Anything wrong with that superhero friend of yours?” Nate tried to steer the conversation in the right direction.

“We'll cut the crap, Nate with the beard. I wanna tell you a story about real life. Because that’s what happens outside of these walls and that radio station and it’s about more than just caring about yourself and looking out for what’s best for you. Because out there, there are people like my friend who always look out for others and they disregard their own needs because they don’t see themselves as valuable members of this society. Maybe it’s because they were floating around without proper guidance when they were younger, lost their family or friends or hung out with the wrong crowd. Things like that happen all the time. Daddy is in Afghanistan, Mommy ran away because the pressure was too much. There are accidents, there are illnesses and, boom, there they are, struggling to survive. And they fall. And they get back up. And they fall again. And then they might need a hand to get up again. So that’s what happened. I saw him on the ground but he was a good kid. So I picked him up. And it was the fucking right decision, no matter how many people have told me otherwise since. ‘Cause I saw something in the kid and I still see it now - in that human being they punished for being a good man. Who just wanted his place in all of this. “

Harvey paused as if he wanted to collect his thoughts. He was rambling, Mike could hear him pour another glass but more than anything he heard the words replay in his head and he couldn’t believe this was happening. Harvey talked about him. On national radio. And even though he had hurt him so badly, he said all those things about him. Things he had never said to his face. At least not like this. He scratched his arm in distress. God, he needed to see him!!!

“And then they put him in that… hole.” Harvey’s voice broke and Mike gasped quietly. “And it’s my goddamn fault that he’s in there. Because I could have done things differently. It was me who made the mistake five years ago. We should have figured out a different way to support him but back then it had seemed like the logical thing to do and now he is in prison for a crime that I made him commit.”

Harvey was crying.

Harvey.

Was.

Crying.

On national radio.

In public.

Mike scratched his arm so hard now that he drew blood, he felt tears spring to his eyes and his entire world came crushing down on him. The man he trusted more than anyone else in this whole damn system, country, world was broken. And it had been his doing. Instead of listening, showing him that he was coping, that he was surviving in here, that they would be good, he had accused Harvey, told him that he needed him but that he wasn’t there and all those things he should have said instead had remained unspoken.  
Fuck.  
This wasn’t Harvey’s fault. THIS WASN’T HARVEY’S FAULT!!! Mike banged his head against the wall in frustration - Ted didn’t tell him off for it, possibly because he knew how upset he had been all afternoon - and continued listening to Harvey pouring his heart out.

“And all those weeks and months I’ve tried time and time again to get him out of there. Pull strings. Because I’m not the kind of man who backs away from a challenge. Or a fight. And goddamnit I would do anything to change the current situation. But nothing seems to work - I never lose and I swear to God I’m not good at it but this is not about not winning. This is about failing him. I promised everyone he cares about that he’d be safe but he’s not. He gets into fights and then he plays them down in his letters because he knows that I don’t take them as well as I always say I do. He can be so goddamn cheerful when he writes from in there. Pretending that boredom is the worst of his problems. Yeah, right, I don’t buy it. I know why he does it. So, MIKE! Listen to me. You can fucking shout at me all you want. You can leave that stupid visitation room anytime you like, punish me with silence or spit your anger at me. You hear me? Do as you please. Any goddamn time. Because I’m not buying it! None of that bullshit about music groups in prison and sudoku puzzles and book club. That’s not a holiday camp and I saw the look in your eye when you didn’t think I would. And I also saw that you lost weight and that you’re keeping up a wall. If you need that to survive: fine. But if you think that I won’t return, that you’ll be rid of me anytime soon, then you’re fucking wrong. Next visitation is on Monday and you better be ready to apologize to me for assuming I’d be naive enough to believe all of those obvious lies to scare me off. I miss you. And you better see me or I’ll break myself into that goddamn prison until you will.”

Wow.  
Had this really just happened?  
Mike couldn’t quite compute what he had just heard, he was so upset and relieved at the same time that the tears were freely running down his face now as his entire body shook with emotions.  
…he had called him by his real name. Not even caring about the consequences. Jesus, that was dangerous! What if the wrong people were listening to this?  
But he had also seen right through his act. Of course he had.  
When the shaking wouldn’t stop, he disregarded the unspoken prison rule, pushed the cover down and slid underneath, feeling way too vulnerable to sleep on top of his bed tonight. He curled up on his side and clawed his hand into his arm again, too worked up to stop himself. Harvey wasn’t going anywhere.  
Harvey was still there.  
They were still friends.  
And he understood.

Towards the end of Harvey’s speech, he had been barely understandable, he was a sobbing, drunken mess.  
“Bruce, listen. I know you don’t believe in - I think you called it ’kumbaya shit’ but I would like to put you through to our radio counsellor. I’m not judging you in any way but I believe that it would be better if you talked to a professional tonight. And if I may give you a little piece of advice: Call a friend. You can’t shoulder the burden alone, so don’t try to be the hero. It doesn’t help Robin, Mike, whatever you want to call him here if you break down. It would possibly make him feel guilty and in the process, you’d feel even worse. And things could easily spiral down from there. Talk to friends. Go out. Give yourself a break.”

Harvey cleared his throat and inhaled deeply. He sounded very off-guard but tried to downplay it. “Thank you, but I am in very qualified hands, I don’t need your people. What I do need is for you to play a song.”

“Entirely your call, Bruce, just be careful. And of course you’re entitled to request a song. I see you chose ’Wild Horses’ by The Rolling Stones.”

“Yes, and it’s pretty much self-explanatory. Thanks Nate, have a good night,” and then he simply hung up in the middle of the show.

For the first time since listening to this program, Mike appreciated the work Nate did. He had suddenly shown this extremely compassionate side (he possibly always had but when they talked about issues that seemed ridiculous to Mike, he wouldn’t notice) and said exactly the right things. But knowing Harvey, he wouldn’t listen.  
Tomorrow, Mike would write another letter. To Donna.

_I watched you suffer a dull aching pain_   
_Now you've decided to show me the same_   
_No sweeping exit or offstage lines_   
_Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind_

_Wild horses couldn't drag me away_   
_Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away_

_I know I've dreamed you a sin and a lie_   
_I have my freedom but I don't have much time_   
_Faith has been broken tears must be cried_   
_Let's do some living after we'll die_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to novemberhush and Sairyn for helping me find a song :) As always, I've added it to the [Playlist](https://youtu.be/rkFN1c8nwrA?list=PL0bS_p-67Sb9y-e59GfLkwBXVLlYVCKEt). I hope you like it.


	9. Chapter 9

_Dear Donna,_

_Thank you again for your latest book package, I’ve always wanted to read ‘War and Peace’ and I guess that I have enough time on my hands to dedicate to it properly. I’ve never thanked you for all the things you’ve done to make me feel a little better in this place, I guess I took it for granted. But I shouldn’t have. You always hurt the ones you love the most and you are definitely family to me. And I’m sick and tired of putting the people around me through pain. So please excuse my silence. I’ll try to write in future (if you want me to – and you may stop me anytime) to tell you a little about what’s going on in here. And make you see that I’m surviving. Scarcely at times but I’m still around and I’ll get through these years in one piece to pester you all when I’m out of here._

_I don’t know if Harvey has let you in on our little correspondence, knowing him he probably hasn’t and that’s why I’m contacting you today. I’m worried about him. And knowing you, you probably are too but I just couldn’t sit here twiddling my thumbs when all of this is killing him. I know that he’s pretending to be a fighter and he’s pretending to be strong. But he’s not. And I need someone to look after him right now. I know, he will try to push you away the way he always does and he will try to make you believe that it’s bullshit, that he can very much deal with things the Harvey Specter way but…_  
I don’t know if you heard about the fight we had yesterday. Maybe he told you by now. Maybe he snapped at you instead when you realized that he wasn’t being honest with you. We know what he can be like. But promise me this: Don’t let him do that. Push you away. I tried the same thing with him and he wouldn’t have any of it – it was like an out of body experience: You watch yourself beat up the person you care about, the one who you’d trust with your life but you can’t stop yourself. You try but instead of saying you’re sorry and that you’re scared and not in a good place in that very moment, you lash out and kick them even more. Beat them to a pulp figuratively. And then you see the pain in that person’s eyes and the way each punch lands – and trust me, when you know somebody the way I know Harvey, you know exactly how to land those punches – but you can’t control it. Your anger takes over. And I wasn’t even angry at him, you know? I was angry at this place, at these structures that lead to gang structures, to boredom, to deals, to feeling helpless. And more than anything I was angry at myself at having become the person that I had always promised my parents not to become. I was ashamed of being here. A criminal. Trapped. With no prospect of a normal future (because let’s face it, even if I find a new job out there, everyone will still see the ex-con. The fraud.). Someone who had put his friends’ lives at risks, their careers and business but also their personal affairs. I was so fucking mad at myself.  
And then there was Harvey.  
And he just looked at me.  
And he asked me if I was eating because apparently I look like I’m not. And he wanted to know who had beaten me up and when I wouldn’t tell him, he got worried and raised his voice – and you can figure out how all of that ended. Shit. I was sure he’d never want to see me again but then he pulled this stunt and declared on national radio that he would always be there for me (officer, seriously, you don’t wanna listen to that one, it’s not worth it. Plus, the music is shitty!) and he even blew his cover and used my real name – and he was plastered. The great Harvey Specter.

_But even worse… He’ll kill me for telling you this but you should know so you can tell how lonely he is right now. He poured his heart out, drunk and emotional and then he actually started to cry. Can you imagine that? For every single soul to hear. And he didn’t hide it, he was completely off his game. So much that the radio host wanted to connect him to their therapist to make sure he was okay (which of course he refused). I don’t know how your relationship is at the moment, I’m aware of your ups and downs in the past but he needs a friend right now. You can hate me for putting this in a way that makes it sound like I don’t believe you’re there for him but I just notice that he’s crumbling to pieces and each time I hear from him, it’s a tiny bit worse. Hell, he barely kept it together in front of me. He hit the roof, he slumped down on his chair and he pinched the bridge of his nose repeatedly to have an excuse not to have to look into my eyes. He was shaky, nervous and unfocused. And even worse than the knowledge that it’s because of me is the fact that I can’t do ANYTHING about it. Not one single thing. Writing letters won’t do any good. He needs a hug – something I can’t really give him right now because that’d be a sign of weakness around here. People would jump to conclusions and if they see that he’s my weak spot, I’ll never see the light of day._

_So, please, Donna. Don’t leave him hanging. He’s pretending to be strong, I can tell. He is keeping the firm together, I can imagine. And he’s most likely doing his Harvey Specter thing to keep everyone at distance. Don’t let him. He needs you._

_Thank you._

_Mike._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Donna isn't very popular these days and I'm also not the biggest fan of how things are between her and Harvey right now but this just was something I could imagine Mike doing...


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thanks to Sairyn and Novemberhush for comments, beta and improvements :) I initially planned on adding something more to this chapter but it's just an 'interlude', it doesn't quite fit into the system of the story but I found it necessary. It's inspired by last week's EP, so if you haven't watched that yet, do so before you read this.

Half a week had passed since Harveygate. Half a week and too many hours left thinking about what had happened that day. What he had heard that night. About what he could do to make things easier for his friend. Half a week to actually figure out what their friendship meant - to him, to Harvey, to the world. Because Ted was right, he cared a whole lot about the other man, he was his rock, his stability, his shoulder to cry on - if only figuratively speaking at the moment. Without him he wouldn’t have survived in here, he was always there in spirit. Sometimes Mike found himself arguing with him in his head over petty things that happened in prison. Other times he heard him laugh when he said something funny to his bunkmate or something hilarious happened during movie nights. And when he had a bad day and couldn’t bother looking after himself, he heard the despair in Harvey’s voice, his drunk, slurred, urgent evaluations of Mike’s state, telling Nate - and the world - that he was too skinny, looked haunted and had a fading bruise on his temple. 

God, he wished he could have appeared normal, pretended that he was alright. It was easy in writing, Harvey was right. Playing things down when you have plenty of time to think about the things you wrote definitely made it easier to calm down the people you loved. And of course all of that had come crashing down the moment Mike had been guided to the visitation area for the first time. 

Harvey had looked at him so...so not Harvey. Mike still couldn’t get his head around that fact. He knew that his friend was hiding something, that he was working on something, not accepting the fact that he was in jail.   
That was obvious.   
As was his lack of sleep. Dark circles under his eyes were testimony of long night shifts. But when Mike had looked at him, his expression had softened and for a split second, Mike could look straight into his soul. See how much this hurt him. And it killed him more than those endless hours in prison, more than his stupid kitchen job and more than the fact that he didn’t know what his future would look like. 

When he had gotten angry, he hadn’t been angry at Harvey - there just hadn’t been anybody else in that room. More than anything, Mike was angry at himself, at the circumstances he was in, at the fact that he couldn’t make any single decision in prison without having it officially approved. All those built up frustrations, all that rage - it had found its outlet that Monday. 

And while Mike had exploded right in his face, it had been the exact opposite of what he had wanted to do. He had wanted to be a good friend, tell Harvey to get some rest, to look after himself because Mike was so worried for him. But Harvey had been stubborn. He just wouldn’t listen. He wanted to fight. He needed a cause. And finding a way to shorten Mike’s sentence was his way to deal with reality. Mike, on the other hand, had finally accepted that he would be in this place for a long, long time. He didn’t believe in deals, new trials or innovative attempts to get him out of there. It would just get his hopes up and have them crushed again eventually and Harvey suggesting something like that - it had been enough for him to panic and lash out. 

Mike rubbed his temple. God, he needed to stop going there. This place just did it to you, it drove you mad, made your thoughts spiral without means to escape. He had had the exact same thoughts too many times over the past few days and this just had to end. 

Donna must have received his letter by now. Should he call her? He had never called anyone from in here, mostly to keep up the image that PSL were done with him. But this was about Harvey and he couldn’t sit around doing nothing any longer. Right now he was going insane and after that call-in show, he had hardly slept, worrying about his excessive alcohol and occasional drug consumption. He climbed off his bunk and made it to the phone area. 

There was only a short queue because most people were outside right now and while Mike waited, he changed his mind about fifty times but when it was his turn, he was full of determination and desire to make things right again. He recalled the calling process from the Danbury handbook and dialled Donna’s number. While he waited, his heart was racing. He really did this. After almost three months he made his very first phone call. 

There were so many things he could have said to initiate the call: thanked her, asked her to not hang up, told her that it was him - which was the most ridiculous option since she had just been asked if she was ready to accept the charges from Danbury Federal Prison - but for an instant, he was lost for words, almost surprised to hear her voice, so he went for a simple “Donna”. 

“My birthday's not for another week, but I appreciate the call,” she replied as cheerful as she could but he could tell that she was more emotional than she let on. Mike realized just now how much he had missed her. His heart was beating hard in his chest, he needed to make sure to stay composed. This was exactly why he couldn’t talk to Harvey on the phone. He looked around. Thankfully nobody was watching. 

“Your birthday's not for another five months and six days and you know I know that,” he played along, trying to sound as okay as she needed him to be. She wasn’t stupid, in fact she had a killer instinct about other people’s feelings sometimes. 

“And I also know that you'll be here helping me celebrate with everyone,” she continued their string of conversation and Mike swallowed. He didn’t want to go there. Not with her as well. How could he possibly explain that even the prospect of getting out early made it impossible for him to accept that he was in there, convicted, guilty as charged? It might have been absurd to an outsider but as long as everyone tried to get him out, he could never truly arrive. He’d always be in transition. It also made him acutely aware of the fact that they were indeed pulling strings behind Mike’s back because Donna was on the same page as Harvey and that usually meant that they were working on strategies.

When Donna asked, “You doing okay?”, Mike noticed his own silence. Expensive silence. He needed to get a grip, there was a reason for his call. 

“Yeah, I'm hanging in,” he tried.

“Good. Now what's the favor you were going to ask me?” - so the letter hadn’t arrived yet. Of course not… The more important letters were to Mike, the longer it seemed for them the reach their destination. 

“How did you know?” 

“Because you called my line and not Harvey's, and I know when my friend needs me,” Donna replied and made Mike smile. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, replying carefully, “Yeah, that’s what I’m calling about…” He tried to find a way to start, to find an order to the chaos in his brain.

“Harvey… I don’t like his current state.”

“Honey, he loves you, of course this isn’t easy for him,” Donna replied matter of factly and caused Mike to draw in a sharp breath. It hit him right to the core. 

“Yeah… maybe he shouldn’t… Did he tell you about our meeting?” Mike was almost scared of the answer to that one.

“He told me that you were stressed out and angry, that you looked uneasy and that you wouldn’t listen to his ideas to get you out. He called you a stubborn idiot - but I don’t think that will surprise you,” Donna’s voice was warm and not judging him at all. Still, it hurt - even though of course she was right. He wasn’t surprised. 

“You know that he would do anything to get you out of there, right?” she added when Mike didn’t reply and he sighed softly and grabbed the receiver tighter, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I know but… I don’t want that… Whatever he’s doing, it’s killing him… I would never be able to live with myself if…” his voice trailed off.

“Mike, listen to me. He’s doing it for himself just as much as he is doing it for you. Him giving up - that’s not gonna happen. He needs this. To survive. So please don’t take that away from him.”

Mike bit hard on his bottom lip and whispered, “Okay… I won’t… but you also need to promise me something…” he didn’t even wait for Donna’s reply but continued straight away, “make sure he sleeps, eats. Goes easy on the Scotch. Tell him… Tell him that it won’t do me any good if he figures out a way to get me out of jail and he won’t be there anymore cause he died from a heart attack. Can you do that?” His voice had started to quiver at the last bit and he needed to end this conversation in order to keep up a somewhat straight face. 

“Darling, I will. And you hang in there, we’re thinking of you. If you need anything. Games. Distraction. Books. Company. You let us know, okay?” 

Mike felt a wave of homesickness wash over him and swallow him entirely. He held onto the wall and squeezed his eyes shut once more to maintain his composure. Crying didn’t get him any closer to his loved ones, so he needed to suck it up. “Okay,” he squeezed out, “Thanks, Donna… I love you…”

He hung up the phone and slowly dragged himself back to his bunk. He knew he should feel better now and in a way he did, because he knew that he wasn’t alone but the loneliness that invaded him right now was hard to deal with. No, he couldn’t talk on the phone. That was too real. Way too real. And definitely not to Harvey. He sat down on his bed and stared into space.   
They were trying to get him out. Mike really didn’t know what to do with this piece of information. It made him sick with nerves. No, he didn’t believe in a shorter sentence, but if it helped Harvey cope with the situation, he would play along. He just prayed that it didn’t kill the man he needed more than anyone.


	11. Chapter 11

_Dear Harvey,_

_Thank you for coming back. I know it's probably a stupid thing to write but... thank you anyway. It was good to see you, even though I would have rather talked more about what's going on in your life other than figuring out a way to get me out of this place. But then it kinda dawned on me. That's pretty much the only thing that's going on in your life right now, isn't it? I mean... PSL is struggling to get back on their feet, you probably have to court clients you wouldn't normally touch and apart from that you're trying to save me._

_I know that you wouldn't listen to me when I said that I was beginning to deal with this reality. I could tell that you didn't like that. That you didn't want to accept that I am a criminal and I'm paying for my crimes. Just like everyone else in here. It baffles me a little that even after all these years you still see me for who I want to be rather than for who I really am. You keep pointing out that I have helped all these people and all these cases and while that might be true, I still endangered everything and I didn't do all of that from the goodness of my unconditional, all-giving heart but because I enjoyed the recognition, the rush of winning. I know you'll tell me that I still fought for the right cause - but it doesn't change the fact that I'm a fraud and always will be, even though you still deny that._

_I don't blame you one bit for haven given me the opportunity, Harvey, I know that I've told you a couple of times before, but it still doesn't seem to register in that stubborn brain of yours. But let's not dwell too much on the past. It doesn't get us anywhere._

_You are still here. That is all that matters to me. And it confirms all those things you've always denied about yourself. You have a huge heart and you care about me. Yeah, I know, we established that by now but I felt the need to point it out. When you hugged me earlier today, I realised just how much I needed that. And I admire you for holding me until the guard told you to stop, I know that you usually maintain your image in places like this. But maybe it's strange to be here with me? I mean, I understand that this facility is usually something work-related for you and here I am, somehow work and somehow not, and it hits closer to home? I don't know, I don't want to be the one pissing you off by trying to read you - I've given up on that years ago (even though I still believe that I read you quite well, haha)._

_I just... that hug... yeah... it really helped me to get through this day. And possibly the next one or two. Or three. I'm glad that you understand that I don't wanna talk on the phone. It's just an open space and I don't want to appear weak. I know, you don't think that I'm weak at all, but compared to some of the other guys in here, I'm such a pussy and I don't plan on giving them any ammunition against me._

_Harvey... I don't really know how to say this but... I know that I said you don't have to come all the time now that you're allowed to. It wasn't really a lie, but I do want you to know that you're making things easier. Knowing that I still have a friend out there. A person I can always rely on. And you coming back after our fight has put a lot of things straight again. I was unbearable in here, you know? Ted - the guy I told you about - was pissed off at first and then started worrying about me. I guess you're my promise of a better life once I've survived this unpleasant interlude. You're the one who saved me from becoming a full-blown criminal when you picked me up back then and I know that no matter what I'll do when I'm out of here, you'll be there. And that makes it all so much less terrifying. I trust you, more than you'll possibly ever know._

_I planned to write a completely different letter but again you got me thinking - how exactly do you do that? Initially, I had wanted to tell you about the movie we saw last and discuss it with you but I guess meeting you has opened a couple of doors I had shut before and now it all seems to want to bleed out. So here I am, bleeding. Does that sound dramatic? It certainly does to me!_

_You know what's funny? That you didn't come in a suit this time. I mean, I get that you came straight from the office on Monday, so that's why you wouldn't wear anything else but somehow I expected that this - place of work, see above - would be an institution that made you feel in need of your armor. Seeing you in jeans and a shirt in these walls, that was something I didn't envisage. But I can't deny that I liked it... It makes you more... accessible, you know what I mean? Like I said before, I'm wearing these ill-fitted jeans and shirt and you coming in your casual clothes... that was good. Maybe you did it on purpose - but then again, you don't care about people, do you? Hahahaha, sorry to rub it in. I can't help it. But you should wear that stuff more often, makes you look 10 years younger (knowing you, you'll turn around that compliment and say that in a suit you look 10 years older but I only have the best of intentions at heart, I swear, your honor!)._

_You know... I really love to see you on weekends because you're less stressed out, you don't worry as much as you do during the week and there is some ease about you. I know that you're trying to find that famous loophole but even if you don't find it, it's okay, as long as you don't abandon me here - which I know you won't._

_I've been here for almost 4 months now and that means I'll just have to hang in here six times as long. I'll manage. I promise. I won't die, I won't let anyone assault me and I won't become a different person. Well, maybe a little, prison has already changed me, but I don't want you to kill yourself trying to get me out. That wouldn't do me any good. Because in case you haven't noticed I really like the relaxed, happy you that I saw today (well, 'happy' might be the wrong word considering the shadow of guilt that you couldn't quite hide, Mister. I will repeat that it's not your fault until that one is finally gone). And I really liked quoting movies and joking about Louis... all those things. I like them. Because they make you smile and I will sound cheesy now but I like it when you smile. There. The most inappropriate thing to not say in person but write in a letter. BAM! :)_

_To end this letter, I'll go all Grammy Ross on you and say: Eat enough, drink enough (no Scotch!), go easy on those recreational drugs, don't start smoking, don't forget to sleep, enjoy the good moments, don't beat yourself up over the bad ones and live long and prosper._  
_Okay, the last one was Gramps Ross rather than Grammy Ross but you get what I'm trying to tell you: I still need you, so look after yourself and if you fail to do it for yourself (I know you!), do it for me. There, a cheap psycho trick. I'm good at those..._

 _Love,_  
_Mike_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to have kept you waiting for so long. I've had a very painful disc prolapse that is still acting up - it makes sitting in front of a computer pretty painful, so I've only ever been able to write after work which provided to be difficult because my boss kept giving me more work, seeing that I was still there... And it's also not the safest environment to write slash, you do feel watched ;) Anyways, my brain no longer shouts "OUCH OUCH OUCH" (which is kinda distracting) whenever I'm writing or sitting for too long, so I'm trying to be back. Be patient with me,this story is a baby to me and I want to finish it. I actually wanted to first get it done in its totalty before posting another chapter but since life seems to be very unpredictable these days, I'll update while I'm writing again. There might be longer breaks depending on how my condition is treating me but I'll try to finish all stories I started, I know how annoying unfinished fics are ;-))


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe this but I'm done. I mean with the actual first writing - I never thought I'd finish the story in 2016 and now it looks like I am currently doing just that. I've written pretty much all week and now I'm currently looking through the beta'ing that Novemberhush has done (without her and Sairyn I wouldn't have managed to finish this, I swear). Since I'm the most impulsive person you'll ever find, I'll post as soon as I've done one chapter. That way you'll have it all pretty much in one go or two or three but you won't have to wait for another half year :) Thanks for your patience, you've been incredible. All of you!

And yet another potato… Mike sighed. When he had started working in the kitchen a few weeks - actually by now months - ago, he had been so bad at it. It wasn’t like he had been a chef before serving his time. Quite the opposite. He could cook a somewhat decent pasta and was able to look into the fridge and throw something together with the remainders of what used to be a functioning food supply before he started working all those long hours for Harvey. But he had avoided anything that would have required any kind of actual preparation - and peeling potatoes had been very far down on his list of favorite things to do.

By now nobody was complaining anymore, that was all he actually asked for. At least it was a repetitive task, so he could allow his mind to wander somewhere else - like that visit Harvey had paid him the previous day.  
He smiled.

God, he had needed something like that, just a decent hour with his friend, not watching his back, his words, his everything. They had just sat there and even though they both knew that there was this task force 'get Mike out of prison', none of them had brought it up.  
And after that HUG - yes, Mike thought of it in capital letters - Mike wasn't sure anymore where they were standing. Somehow, deep down, he had always craved for something like this but what this was... how could he possibly put it into words? Especially when it came from a person like Harvey Specter? A guy who didn't do compassion or emotions and most certainly not hugs in prison.

He had looked better. Maybe Donna really had done what she had promised Mike to do, it was as if he finally had gotten some sleep. Not enough, who were they kidding but at least some kind of rest and that was all Mike could ask for.

And then things had just been easy. More and more relaxed. They had smiled. Mike had actually talked about Ted, about movie nights, about his boring job. He had listened to Harvey's stories about getting PSL back on their feet - it almost seemed normal. Maybe they could actually establish something here. It could be the basis of something.

Mike realised that his mind was running in circles again. His relationship to Harvey was all he seemed to think about lately and it was beginning to worry him. What if he just read something into Harvey's kindness because he was the only one here? What if he just meant to be polite? What if he did it out of a feeling of guilt? What was he trying to read into all of this anyway? Was he just lonely and projecting all of his hopes and feelings into this one person because he was there? God, he wished he was able to think clearly.

"Ross, if you continue peeling that potato, there won't be anything left of it," Carter barked in his general direction. He turned around and shrugged apologetically. That guy was one of the guards he had never really been able to read and that worried him because back in the day, he won his best cases by getting the psychological side of things. He just had a good intuition who to trust and who rather not and when that failed him for whatever reason, it made him uneasy.

 

Carter stepped closer and patted his shoulder as if they were pals. It was such an invasion of Mike’s private space - not that there was anything like that in these walls but still, there were boundaries and usually at least the guards accepted them by keeping a distance.

“Well, enjoy the rest of your shift,” he smirked, turned around and started whistling “Wild Horses”.  
Mike froze. Fuck. He knew. How many of them did? Harvey had called him by his real name the other day - how many of those guards were listening to that particular radio show? He knew that Carter was standing in the corner again, grinning knowingly, pleased with himself to have rattled Mike’s cage, so he tried his best not to show his terror. He grabbed another vegetable and stared at it in concentration as if this was the most difficult task in the world.

 

He closed his eyes and tried to breathe normally. That smirk. It meant knowledge. Power. A threat. Carter suspected he wasn’t straight, even though nothing Harvey or Mike had said or done had given him reason to doubt his heterosexuality but even though Mike had troubles reading this man - that much was obvious. And if it was that obvious, it was reason to worry. What if…

During his time in here, he had had encounters with fists a couple of times but nobody had actually ever seriously threatened him. He also knew that a lot of guys were willing to trade sex for all sorts of things, some even started relationships in here because of loneliness - and if you had a long sentence, Mike could imagine that you needed something like that to not completely go insane. But he had promised himself he would never go there, he'd just soldier through his two years, stay out of trouble and do his thing. Figure out what he wanted to do with himself when he got out of Danbury.

Jesus Christ... Mike inhaled deeply and tried not to let on how much this encounter had just shaken him up. Peel your potatoes, do your job, just be yourself. His fingers were trembling.

 _Nothing happened, he was just messing with you._  
_Nothing happened._  
 _You are fine._

He had known that prison could be demanding but it was encounters like these that really took their toll on him. Because it was against his nature to just take it. To not say anything. Just be obedient and do what he's told to do. That one in particular; he had acted on his instincts and in here he wasn't allowed to.

And he knew that he was at these people's mercy but little mindfucks like the simple whistling of a supposedly harmless song could really get to you in a claustrophobic environment like this. He could count himself lucky that the guard was sensible enough to just smirk, just tease him, just play with his fears. Because nobody in here liked a snitch, he couldn't have reported if anything had actually happened.  
And nothing had happened.  
Carter had just whistled a song.  
A song that Harvey had chosen for him. But just a song.

_Think happy thoughts.  
Harvey. Think of Harvey's visit. Think of the radio show._

_Carter knows about the radio show..._

_Stop it, Mike. Don't go there. That's your happy place. You need that happy place. They can't do anything to stop you from listening to it and you will do just that. And he will come to visit you. And it will be okay…_

Mike had no idea how he had finished his shift and gone through the rest of the day. He was floating around, bouncing off conversations here and there, with Ted, some new kid who was only 19 and terrified and some guy he had played cards with once who wouldn’t talk much so he didn’t even know his name.

He had gone out for a little walk in the yard, tried to shake off today's events, had tried to read, just pass time but his mind kept wandering back to the event in the kitchen. He was well aware that neither the whistling nor that smirk alone were enough to report Carter and he also knew that there was a shortage in staff and it would only result in having a sentence-long enemy, so he ruled that out to begin with.  
No, he had to portray strength, that was the only way to not get thrown under the bus in here. So eventually, when the day was finally over, he lay down on his bunk and switched on the radio, praying that Harvey would be there and make things alright again. Today he needed it more than ever before.

Mike hardly registered the first few callers and their mostly petty issues. By now he was so used to cancelling out voices he didn’t want to hear from his time behind bars that he had developed a special filter for the important news and voices. It had come gradually but helped him focus on his books, letters and thoughts - especially when there was mayhem around him because someone had decided to throw a fit over something unimportant.

“Well, this call makes me especially happy. Welcome back, Bruce!” Nate with the Beard introduced Harvey and just like a successful Jacobsen session, Mike’s muscles from toes to jaw immediately reached a state of relaxation. He felt better just from hearing the by now familiar introduction and turned to face the wall. These were his five, ten minutes, nobody was allowed to take it away from him. Not that anyone would do that at this time of night but he didn’t want to take any risk.

“Hello Nate, I’m glad you’re still happy to hear me, despite my latest escapades, live on national radio…” Harvey replied and sounded - good. He sounded good. At ease, he was smiling, he was actually charming, no arrogance to hide behind, no walls, he was more himself on that show than he’d ever been and that almost threw Mike off track.

“Don’t worry, I can handle it,” Nate replied with an obvious smile in his voice.

“Still. It was unprofessional and uncalled for, as you could tell I had a bit of a meltdown,” Harvey didn’t let it rest. That was so very him! Mike valued that about him - even though more often than not it also drove him mad.

“We received many letters after your last call, people weren’t just worried about you, they offered their support. Other men and women with family and friends in jail who could relate to what you’re going through. We’ve collected them for you, if you stay connected after our transmission, you could leave your address and we’d pass them on to you,” Nate offered before adding “But knowing you, you probably consider that too kumbaya and would rather fight this battle on your own.”

Mike could tell that Harvey was surprised because it took him a second longer to reply this time but then he laughed! Mike’s face almost split in two at the sound of the other man’s laughter through the telephone line, he gnawed on his bottom lip as a heat wave rushed through his system and his heart almost jumped out of his chest.

“Nate, I can’t believe it, you do know me pretty well by now indeed,” Harvey smirked. “So I bet you wanna know what happened since my little breakdown?”

Now it was Nate’s turn to be surprised “Is this happening? Bruce is willing to share a story without being talked into it?”

“I guess Bruce is. You all remember Robin - I will stick to that name, sorry, folks - well. I guess he was one of the many listeners witnessing my… meltdown, breakdown, escapade, call it whatever you wanna call it, we’ve all been there. So when I went to visit him after the fight that had led to said events, he was on white flag mode and so was I. What can I say, we had a very good conversation. He looked alright. As alright as he could look of course, considering the circumstances. But he’s a fighter and I know it sounds corny but I was fucking proud of the way he’s staying out of trouble, doing his thing, serving his sentence and still being the person I met day one. Older, more serious but with a good heart.”

Mike couldn’t possibly imagine to smile any wider. Harvey usually never talked like that about anyone. Not even his father. Or Donna. He was proud of him - had he really just admitted to that on a public broadcast even though he knew he’d probably never hear the end of it from Mike? Carter disappeared, the endless potato peeling vanished, for a second he wasn’t in prison. He was at Harvey’s condo, lying on his couch and listening to him speak. He closed his eyes to intensify that feeling.

“Well, knowing Robin, he needs to hear this every now and again. Because he tends to forget that he’s a caring, warm hearted person who doesn’t deserve to be in the place he is in now. And him knowing me, he will be very surprised now that I talk about these things with you, Nate. But I haven’t been more sober in a long time and I realized that this is my part of the deal. He is in there, out of his comfort zone, I’m here, talking to you, out of mine.”

Nate laughed, “You do know that it’s a little harsh to compare being in prison to talking to me live on air?”

Mike heard Harvey grin before he replied “You’re right, talking to you is much worse…” They both laughed and the intense longing that took hold of Mike in that very second almost choked him. God. He wanted to be with Harvey. Laugh about Louis, quote stupid movies. A tear escaped his eye even though he was still smiling but homesickness got the better of him.

Harvey cleared his throat and directed the next bit straight at him again “Robin, I wanted to thank you for the good conversation we had yesterday. You look better now, I know that you can stand your ground but know that I’m having your back, no matter what you might need. And that doesn’t just apply for in there but also the world out here. I know that it scares you, the world. The ‘what comes after’ bit. But remember: You’ve always been a fighter. You’ve never taken the easy way out. And it’s one of the things that makes you who you are. ...I don’t know why it’s so difficult to tell you these things in person but you know - that place can be a little intimidating. Even to me who’s been there so many countless times. But this time it’s different. This time it’s personal.”

Nate waited if there was more to come because it sounded as if Harvey hesitated but then he fell silent. Mike was amazed - the other man couldn’t have read his letter yet, he had just sent it out yesterday. Still it sounded as if they were completely in synch. “This time it’s personal.” Hm.

“The listeners are very curious now why you’ve been there so many countless times but you won’t tell us,” it wasn’t even a question, Nate wasn’t a complete idiot, he had talked to Harvey a couple of times now, he knew better than to ask.

“Precisely,” Harvey replied by return, Mike could tell that he was a little shocked that he had been that off-guard to reveal such a detail, something he usually would be way too cautious to do. “What I will tell you is that I’ve decided that ‘He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother’ is my song request for today.”

“I was surprised you didn’t go for the Neil Diamond version,” Nate replied and Mike started laughing, being immediately kicked by Ted through the mattress and shushed - so dramatically that Mike had no doubt that the other man was pulling his leg.

“NEIL DIAMOND?” Harvey coughed “Mi… Robin would never stop teasing me if I did. It’d serve as lifelong ammunition…”

Lifelong. Mike liked the sound of that. He wasn’t sure he had ever heard of that track before but then again Harvey had a very obscure taste in music sometimes. He turned onto his back with his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling, trying to soak it all up. Even though the “brother” threw him a little off track - and the melody was pretty cheesy, he had to say, even for Harvey! - each word got right to his core. This was what they were about. This was them. This was a lifeline.

_The road is long_   
_With many a winding turn_   
_That leads us to who knows where_   
_Who knows where_

_But I'm strong_   
_Strong enough to carry him_   
_He ain't heavy, he's my brother_

_So on we go_   
_His welfare is of my concern_   
_No burden is he to bear_   
_We'll get there_

_For I know_   
_He would not encumber me_   
_He ain't heavy, he's my brother_

_If I'm laden at all I'm laden with sadness_   
_That everyone's heart_   
_Isn't filled with the gladness_   
_Of love for one another_

_It's a long, long road_   
_From which there is no return_   
_While we're on the way to there_   
_Why not share_

_And the load_   
_Doesn't weigh me down at all_   
_He ain't heavy he's my brother_   
_He's my brother_


	13. Chapter 13

_Dear Harvey,_

_I don’t really know how to start this letter - weird, isn’t it? I mean, I do have more than enough practice but everything inside me is such a mess. You’re to blame, I hope you know that. You and that… look on your face when you told me that you’d do whatever needed to be done to get me out._

_It took me half a week to muster up the courage to even tell you what was bothering me because - well, because I knew you’d react the way you did. You’d get protective. Impulsive. Aggressive almost knowing you couldn’t just have me released or transferred to another unit. And then helpless, powerless._

_I can easily take your impulsiveness, your aggression, your force. But I can’t cope with your helplessness. I don’t want to be the one leaving you this sad._

_The thing I told you about (nothing illegal, officer, I swear, just something on my mind)... We can’t change it, you and me. I don’t want any special treatment, I’m on the mend and I will be a better person when I’m finally out of here. I’ve decided what I want to do - it only took me about half a year to figure out the obvious. The kid, Murphy, I told you about him. Well, he needs someone in here, he’s a little like me. Orphan, took one wrong turn and here he was. He’s scared, he’s lonely and I think he just did what he did (whatever it was) to reach out and have a better life, make something of his impossible future. Not that it’s an excuse, I’ve learnt that the hard way._

_But yeah. Spending time with him and teaching him what to do and who better to avoid, I realized once more how gratifying it was to be there for someone else. And then it dawned on me that I want to work in the social system. Help orphans or troubled kids who need both psychological and legal advice. I think I can do that, even with my criminal record. They will be thankful for any help they can get, I’m sure. The payment will be crap and I might have to move back to my old neighborhood but that’s okay, I’ll be able to look in the mirror, so that’s the price I’m willing to pay._

_But I’m deflecting. The thing. Just let it go, Harvey. You don’t have to save me and there is nothing we can do. I’ll just stay out of trouble, read, write, study some. Be a model inmate. Play cards with Ted (who says hi, by the way), solve Sudokus, try to celebrate my quarter term. You know me, I’ll survive somehow, I always have and always will. And I’d rather know you’re doing well. I’m repeating myself but I’m beating myself up over the fact that I worried you with what I said. It wasn’t my way of telling you “Get me out of here!”, it was just me showing you that I trust and confide in you._

_You know. That song you chose last week, I told you this in person but I couldn’t quite find the right words. That track. No matter how cheesy it is (Hah, Neil Diamond, you’re right, I would never stop teasing you!), it’s pretty spot on. I know you’d carry my load. Actually, you do. Whenever I’m having a weak day - and trust me, I still have those, even though less and less - I’m counting the hours and days until I can hear you on the radio or see you in that visitation area._

_And even though the hug in the beginning and the one in the end are by far not enough body contact (does that sound weird? It probably does but we’ve passed the stage of pretending not to care a long time ago and by now I’m pretty sick and tired of acting as if I don’t mind being away from you, it’s the only thing I look forward to at the moment. For weeks or months I worried if that would scare you off but none of my weird letters has done that so far so… yeah… this is me, being open about what I’m thinking. I don’t know if you should get used to that or not, you know I’ve always been impulsive and emotional but maybe I’m being too… Mike Ross and I’ll make you run away screaming. - And I just realised I still haven’t closed that bracket from about 10 rows up, I’ll do that now. There.)_

_Okay. let’s pretend the bracket didn’t happen, I’m too tired today and too lazy to cross it out or start a new letter. Let’s pretend the letter ended on (this is me, trying to find a suitable line… okay, got one)..._

_...Whenever I’m having a weak day - and trust me, I still have those, even though less and less - I’m counting the hours and days until I can see you in that visitation area and hear you on the radio (forgot that part, had to turn it around, pretend it’s identical to up there). Because that’s the highlight of my days. Fresh new face. Though. Not quite as fresh these days. Remember that you promised me to sleep, old man._

_So, yeah, another dreaded subject: Christmas. That’s three weeks from now. I don’t expect you to be there, you should spend it with Marcus and his family, Danbury is supposed to be especially depressing around that time of the year and yeah. I’m not sure I’ll be in the best of moods. I’ll miss seeing Christmas trees and fairy lights, anything really… Maybe I’ll finally figure out this riddle that’s been haunting me since I got here. I have a feeling it’s really easy. Anyway, if you need some distraction, give it a try:_

_“There are 100 prisoners in solitary cells. There's a central living room with one light bulb; this bulb is initially off. No prisoner can see the light bulb from his or her own cell. Every day, the warden picks a prisoner equally at random, and that prisoner visits the living room. While there, the prisoner can toggle the bulb if he or she wishes._

_Also, the prisoner has the option of asserting that all 100 prisoners have been to the living room by now. If this assertion is false, all 100 prisoners are shot. However, if it is indeed true, all prisoners are set free. Thus, the assertion should only be made if the prisoner is 100% certain of its validity._

_The prisoners are allowed to get together one night in the courtyard, to discuss a plan. What plan should they agree on, so that eventually, someone will make a correct assertion?”_

_You’re the great Harvey Specter, best closer in the city, can you close this one? NO GOOGLE! And don’t ask Louis! (I know you’d be too proud to do that anyway…)_

_Have a wonderful pre-Christmas time. Thinking of you. As always. And yeah. Thanks for everything and sorry for being so Mike Ross-y on you today, the season is kinda doing my head in and I keep moving from cheerful to thoughtful to cheerful to thoughtful (read: scared of Christmas). Basically: Same old, same old._

_Thank you, love you,  
Mike_


	14. Chapter 14

Four days ago Mike had posted that letter. Four days that had left him wondering if the “love you” had been okay to write. Yes, he’d had way too much time to think and the only conclusion he’d reached in his many hours in the cell had been that Harvey was the only person in his life apart from his parents in the early days and his grandma until the day she died he could completely trust and rely on. Always. No matter what. He trusted him with his life, one-hundred percent. Knowing he’d wait outside these prison walls and was a brother, a friend, everything he needed (and if he was honest with himself, what he needed was more than a friend or a brother…) was not just reassuring but helped him survive. That sounded dramatic but wasn’t really - he didn’t know if he’d have found the courage and strength to get through these days in one piece if it wasn’t for Harvey. 

Especially now that Christmas was coming closer and he was fucking terrified he’d have a proper breakdown behind bars. Who wouldn’t be? Ted had warned him that the atmosphere around here would be very spooky, especially on Boxing Day. Many of the men in here were fathers, if not they at least had loved ones outside these concrete walls and not being able to spend time with them - it was enough to drive you crazy. He could already tell that the tension inside was building up, some guys were extremely short-tempered and got into fights over minor things. Others were very anti-social and hid in their bunk cubes or cells. 

Mike felt like he was floating. He didn’t want to engage in social activities but couldn’t quite focus on reading or writing, so he mostly just stared into space or had the occasional chitchat with his bunkmate. He did his work and tried to avoid Carter who still whistled “Wild Horses” whenever he passed him by and gave him very unpleasant looks. Nothing out of the ordinary but still everything felt heavier, more difficult, more important. And less important at the same time - if that made sense. 

Right now, he was sitting outside with the kid. They were seated with their backs against the wall in the far corner of the yard and stared into the grey afternoon. It was almost dark by now and very chilly, so most inmates had decided it’d be wiser to stay inside to not catch a cold. Mike and Murphy, however, had used the opportunity to get away from the generally bad vibes inside. The kid was very depressed today and Mike was so overwhelmed with exhaustion himself that he wasn’t very good at cheering him up. 

Mike closed his eyes and said calmly “We could almost be sitting in Central Park right now, can you hear the cars in the distance? That’s the Broadway…” 

“I’ve never been there… New York, I mean…” Murphy admitted. “Actually, this is the first time I’m away from my hometown. Not that anyone’s waiting for me to return…”

“That will change, kid. Trust me, you won’t always be alone, you’re a good guy,” he replied and when he noticed that he sounded like Harvey, he couldn’t help but smile a little.

“So there’s someone in New York?” Murphy asked curiously and for a change Mike wasn’t completely on guard. This was just a boy. 

“My best friend. I always hated that term, you know? ‘Best friend’, it’s like rating the people you care about. Not that I had many of those but to me friends are friends. This one is special though, he’s the only one visiting me in here on a regular basis. Not on Christmas, I asked him to spend it with his family. Cause I know otherwise he’d show up here and you and I both know how depressing that would be…” Mike smiled sadly. 

Murphy sighed and nodded “Yeah… We should do something. I mean. Anything to make it a little festive. Can you draw?”

Mike laughed and shook his head “Not to save my **life**!” he exclaimed. 

“Well, I can... I could come up with something. Stars or Baby Jesus or a fucking Christmas tree - I hated all of that stuff on the outside, can you believe I’m actually talking about an unimportant Christian holiday celebrating the birth of a person that most likely never even existed?”

Murphy was a smart kid, he definitely had wit and a good sense of humour, somehow he reminded Mike of a younger version of himself. He smiled, “I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry. Besides, I went to Catholic school, so I know all about it...” 

They stared up at the sky in silence for a while before the bell rang and they had to get back inside. Mike sighed and tipped his head, “Well, see you at dinner, that was a nice Central Park picnic with you.” 

Murphy chuckled “Gay!” He shook his head in amusement and Mike tested him “What if I was?” 

“Wouldn’t make a difference to me but I think a guy like you? You’d probably be dead by now…” 

Mike rubbed his forehead “Possibly right, kid, possibly right.” He opened the door and went inside, thinking about what Murphy just had said. Even though people had the occasional sex or weird dysfunctional relationship in here, he couldn’t imagine anyone out themselves for real. Before being locked up, before Harvey…

Wow. Before Harvey. He couldn’t believe that he was actively going there now. Half a year in jail and his entire reality had changed. But he knew now that every day mattered and stopping yourself from being happy because he was scared? Yeah, definitely the old Mike. Maybe he still had a little of that coward left in him but he was getting there and Harvey would know. He’d tell him as soon as he got out. Maybe even before. Because this new Mike knew that he should value what they had. Best friends? Yes. Brothers? Yes. But Harvey had come to see him regularly - despite the distance. And despite Mike’s attitude during his first visit. So that had to mean something. The longer he thought about that, the surer he was that the “love you” had been necessary and came at exactly the right time.

Actually. In person would have been the better call. Then again. What if Harvey had driven all the way to Danbury and then Mike had told him he loved him. That would have been just as unfair. There was no easy way to do these things when you were in jail. Why should anything be easy?

Mike went back to his bunk and busied himself studying. He had recently subscribed to Psychology Today, not caring that that resulted in a lot less money for the commissary. That didn’t really hurt him, lately that shitty place had been severely understocked so the majority of things he wanted to purchase weren’t available anyway. He spent the rest of the evening doing just that, highlighting the most significant parts in his brain - no highlighters available and he didn’t want to use up his writing pen for it, it was his connection to Harvey. 

When it was time to turn on the radio, he had to swallow because the first track he heard was “Last Christmas”. What a surprise - the song even haunted him in here. Couldn’t they at least be considerate and play neutral songs on that station knowing how many inmates were listening to their broadcast? No wonder the suicide rates went up around that time of the year. 

Mike swallowed and inhaled deeply. He had survived other important dates in here. His birthday for example - the difference had been that none of them had brought that up. It had been not too long after being sent to jail, Harvey hadn’t been allowed to visit and he sure as hell didn’t give Mike’s identity away by talking about it on the radio. Besides everything in here had been new to him then and he had other things to worry about - keeping out of trouble, not running into fists, stuff like that. And he hadn’t mentioned it in his letter to Harvey either because back then he still pretended to be strong.

Christmas was different. Everyone was emotional - AND the whole world reminded him of the fact that the festive season was coming up. _So “Wham!”, go ahead, kill me._

“Hello everyone, this is Nate! Have you all bought your Christmas gifts yet? Are you celebrating Boxing Day with your loved ones? What do you get THE MOTHER-IN-LAW…” He made a growling sound and Mike muttered “Nothing, shut up…” and balled his hands into fists. He wouldn’t be able to stand this for another two weeks. Thankfully, he wouldn’t have to listen to it longer than absolutely necessary - Harvey was the first caller tonight. 

“Bruce, you’re early!” Nate introduced him. It was a pretty casual way to start their conversation - but yes, by now Harvey was a regular, that much was obvious. 

“Hi Nate, I left work a little earlier than I have over the past few weeks, if that’s what you mean. Let me start off by telling you that I’m not very happy about the fact that I could avoid “Wham!” until I tuned in to your station tonight.” 

Mike smiled contently and shook his head in amusement. A warm sense of belonging invaded him. It’s funny how used he had become to this kind of interaction and it seemed as if Harvey also didn’t loathe sharing his thoughts as much as he did in the beginning. He was a lot more at ease and relaxed about the whole thing than he used to be. 

“We can’t disappoint our listeners, they want to get into the festive mood, Bruce,” Nate replied mildly, knowing exactly that in this life him and Bruce most likely wouldn’t become close friends - even though he seemed to enjoy their conversations more and more as well. 

“Fair point. But maybe you should take into account that there are a lot of people listening to your station who don’t happen to spend Boxing Day with their loved ones and the least of their concerns is what to get their mother-in-law cause they’d cut their right hand off to be able to spend that day in freedom,” he replied calmly, leaving Mike positively speechless. He grabbed his pillow and hugged it tightly to his chest. 

“You’re talking about Robin,” Nate stated the obvious before he added “Yes, you are right. To the guys who are tuned in from the FCI: We haven’t forgotten about you!”

Harvey snorted briefly and cut in “Well, you have - but that’s alright. We all do until the day someone we care a great deal about gets locked away. Just try to not forget about those people. Do you have any idea how high the suicide rates are in jail? I quote an official government report from 2013: ‘Suicide has been the leading cause of death in jails every year since 2000. In  
2013, a third (34%) of jail inmate deaths were due to suicide. The suicide rate increased 14%, from 40 suicides per 100,000 jail inmates in 2012 to 46 per 100,000 in 2013.’” 

In that moment, Nate stopped his rant little rant “Did you just look that up because we played ‘Last Christmas’?”, he sounded incredulous. 

“I looked it up because I have been following your program over the past few days and it is beyond me how you could not take into consideration that even for the general public the suicide rates are higher around Christmas than the rest of the year. And that you have a great responsibility due to your location.” Harvey sounded angry now and Mike held his breath while he hugged the pillow even tighter. God, he loved this man. He was such a fierce fighter - Mike was sure that he had other things to worry about than the mental health of the inmates of FCI Danbury. 

Then it dawned on him. It had taken him a moment but he could have punched himself for not getting it straight away: Harvey was scared Mike was unstable enough to seriously harm himself for Christmas. Oh God. For the first time in six months, he felt the urge to call Harvey - and couldn’t because it was way past call time. Fuck. He was so cut off. He grunted in frustration and kicked the wall. _Christ, Harvey, I wouldn’t do that to you…_

Nate sighed and replied very calmly, he was definitely trained after many hours on these phone lines, “We don’t take our job lightly, Bruce. Trust me, we have a very responsible team behind us that spends a great deal of time discussing what our listeners would want to hear.”

“Maybe you should add one or two of your psychologists to that responsible team,” Harvey pressed out before he took a deep breath and continued a lot more composed, “That being said I want to thank you for giving me the opportunity to send out my songs to Robin on a regular basis, we have talked about you and trust me, that’s making things in there a little more bearable.” 

Now that made Nate smile, he thanked Harvey and asked him if he had another song he’d like to dedicate to his friend.

“Of course I do. This one is a promise for a better time. Because - I know I’m repeating myself: Robin shouldn’t be in there. He is a better person than you and me combined. I was listening to this song on the car to work the other day and it just seems very apt. Robin. I know it’s Christmas time and you’re scared… Don’t be. It will be okay. You know that you’re strong, you know that you’ve survived worse than this. Please… hang in there. I promised to make it okay. And I am. There is something I want to tell you in person and I will. Just hang in a tiny bit longer. I wish I could speed this up but I can’t. Don’t give up. Okay? Please remember what we’ve dealt with, what you’ve gone through. I know you said I shouldn’t do this. But this is something you can’t stop me from doing. I’m thinking of you. And. I guess. Well. Ditto.” 

DITTO! He quoted “Ghost” on him. DITTO! Mike shot up straight in bed and almost hyperventilated. He felt hot and cold. OH GOD! He was so preoccupied that he didn’t catch Harvey announcing which song he had chosen. When he finally had regained his composure, the track was almost over. The last bit he heard echoed in his ear all night.

_You belong among the wildflowers_  
You belong somewhere close to me  
Far away from your trouble and worry  
You belong somewhere you feel free  
You belong somewhere you feel free 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loyalty... the 'ditto' part was inspired by your "Writings On The Wall' story :)


	15. Chapter 15

_HARVEY, YOU IDIOT!!!_

_I told you not to come around for Christmas because I knew I’d be able to survive it without you. Not because I didn’t want you to see me depressed. That’s not the reason, of course I’d be happy to have you around but you worry too much about me. Yes, I’m scared of those days, especially Boxing Day but I won’t kill myself. Promise. So you can stop doing your little research right there and right now. Sit back and relax. There you go… ü did have similar thoughts when I tuned in to the station. That they should show a little more consideration to us morons in here but I knew that I was being unfair. You pulled a typical Harvey Specter on the man with the beard. But… see above “sweet” and “care”._

_I’m reading a lot more again, somehow sitting around and thinking can only entertain you for a certain amount of time. Now that I’ve figured out what I wanna do, I subscribed to Psychology Today and it’s a lot more interesting than you’d think. I would like to quote something as well - if you can do it, so can I, right? It’s from an article called “Does The Future Feel Overwhelming?” (that sounded quite appealing to me…) Here we go:_

_“Your anger can signal something or someone you care about is under threat, and can motivate you to stand up to defend your values. If you feel disappointed, it may be telling you to pay attention to how you’re using your resources – do you need to increase your time, energy and input, or is it something you need to learn, grow and move on from? And if you’re feeling guilty, it’s probably saying, you’re violating your own ethics code; and you may need to take action to apologize and reconnect with those you may have offended.”_

_Sound familiar? I know that I’m repeating myself but. “care” - hehe. Sorry (not really) that I’m rubbing it in. I’ve noticed a look of guilt about you and I wonder which codes of ethic you are currently violating to get me out of here. (nothing illegal, favorite guard of ours, I’m talking morals here) Again I would like to repeat that you don’t have to do it. It’s just three more times what I survived already. And the first weeks were by far the worst. Okay? It’s alright. I’d love to be out for your birthday really but since that’s not possible, I’ll figure out a way to organize (legally, officer!) a gift for you. And I guess that after Christmas, New Year’s will be a walk in the park._

_I wanted to call you last night. When you were on the phone to Nate. I felt the urge to call you up and tell you that everything would be okay. Can you imagine the level of frustration I felt knowing that I couldn’t do that? Couldn’t assure you that things would be alright? And just now, when I woke up, I knew that I’d have to wait until this afternoon to call (I have the morning shift in the kitchen), so I decided to write instead. I couldn’t have gone through the day without getting these words on paper. And I guess. This is us, isn’t it? Letters and call-in show? Never change a winning team or something. (No, your honor, it has nothing to do with the fact that I’ve lost my courage to pick up the phone over the past few months. Not at all.)_

_I don’t expect an answer to this letter before Christmas - around the festive season everyone writes home, even those who’d never pick up a pen the rest of the year. It makes dangerous looking men sentimental and breaks them… The mood in here, you wouldn’t believe it, Harvey. The kid and I have been the only people in the yard for three days in a row now. I like it, it’s almost like being on the outside (literally). When you close your eyes you could almost feel free. Of course reality hits you as soon as you are forced to go back inside but fresh air is precious. And peace and quiet is as well. I think as soon as I’m out of here, I want us (as in you and me) to go on a trip to a secluded place where all you can hear is your breathing. A hut close to the ocean, a trip to the mountains - I want endlessness. I want to stare ahead and not see a goddamn fence. I promise you I’ll break down crying, that won’t come as a surprise to you. Just warning you so you can mentally embrace it._

_Honesty is my new thing. No. Not true, I’ve always tried to be honest. I guess openness is. I don’t really know how to name it but right now I’m so done with hiding. So. Fed. Up. With. It. I hope you won’t hate the new me once you’ve spent more than five minutes with me. It worries me, to be frank. I’m not the same person that went in here, even though you think differently (at least that’s what you told the bearded man, right?). I hope… I don’t know.  
I’ll still be able to laugh. Just. It might take a while. I do laugh in here. Just. Differently, you know?_

_So, how about this: Instead of reassuring each other that I’ll be out of here anytime soon, we could start talking about what will happen once I’m out? I mean after two years? Where will I live? What will I do? How do I achieve that? What do you want to do when I’m out? Do you want us to… Well. You said ‘ditto’. If I read too much into this, tell me to stop, I will have 1.5 years to get over you, that would be okay. I’d rather know now so I could focus on something else and map another future in my head. In case you don’t want what I’m reading into this… Will you help me find a place in Brooklyn? Would it be wise to have you write a recommendation for me considering what happened? I guess I should be open about what happened, right? I have a record and if I want to work with kids, they will need to know._

_...how do you break the news to people that you spent the past two years in jail?_

_You keep telling everyone that I’m such a good guy (which I don’t quite buy myself but it’s nice of you anyway) - how can I convince anyone when the first thing they see is that I’m a fraud?_

_Well, I have all the time in the world to figure all of this out. But I’ll start with the most important thing first: What did you want to talk to me about? The “ditto”? I had a feeling that there was more and I’m intrigued._

_Will I see you before New Year’s or do you plan on spending the entire week at your brother’s place? If I don’t, I want to use this letter to tell you that I’m very grateful for everything you’ve done for me. 2016 more than ever. You’re the hero in this story, in case you weren’t aware of that. And I won’t let you convince me of the opposite._

_I ditto you,  
Michael James Ross_

_PS: I don’t even know why I signed with my entire name. Sometimes I’m weird._


	16. Chapter 16

Mike splashed some water in his face and checked his reflection in the mirror: He looked just as bad as he felt, his eyes were bloodshot and he couldn’t seem to find the strength to even pull himself together enough for a little smile. Deep down inside he knew that he should be happy - Harvey had come! He had disregarded everything Mike had asked him to do and showed up this afternoon for the special Christmas visitation and God had he needed to see him. Badly.

But it had been the straw to break the camel’s back. During the conversation, he had somehow managed to pull himself together - until they had to say their goodbyes. 

The guard had had to forcefully separate them when Mike simply wouldn’t let go. Not even Harvey’s whispered “It’s okay, hey, I will be back tomorrow…” had managed to calm him down and when they escorted out of the room, he’d been held by a strong grip on the back of his neck that restrained him in a way that made it impossible to look at the other man one last time. 

“Ross, come on, suck it up,” the guard had pushed him to the obligatory strip search that left him completely numb for a change. 

God, he hadn’t seen it coming - reacting this strongly. It was an ordinary day in here, he should just ignore that other people were celebrating under a Christmas tree with their loved ones. Ted stood in the doorway and grinned carefully, “I heard you pulled a bit of a stunt in visitation today. You must really care about that friend of yours, if it was a lady, I’d understand but boy, you’re talk of the unit tonight… He your brother or something?”

“He’s ‘the visitor’,” Mike muttered and splashed more water in his face. He was so spent that he couldn’t keep up the act, at least not in front of his friend - because if he was honest with himself, that was exactly what he had become in here, he couldn’t imagine life in jail without him and he knew it was selfish to wish that he’d be out of here before the other man was released. 

“Oh, THE visitor... “ Ted raised his eyebrows, “Is there anything you wanna tell me…?”

“I guess I shouldn’t…” Mike looked at his bunkmate and bit on his lip revealingly. 

Ted came over and patted his shoulder, nodding at him through the mirror, “You’re a smart kid, you shouldn’t. I’ll spread the word that he’s your brother. Just in case…”

Mike inhaled deeply and nodded gratefully “Thanks.”

“Oh, I’m not doing it for nothing, I expect you to do the beds for the next two months,” Ted grinned cheekily before he winked at Mike, indicating that he was only joking. 

Mike shook his head in amusement, inhaled deeply and followed him out. “I heard someone say that it’s snowing today, isn’t that corny? White Christmas and all?”

Ted’s eyes lit up, “Really? Come on, let’s go, check it out…”

When the men left the building, there was indeed a layer of white snow covering the tables and benches. Why hadn’t Harvey said so? Had he been scared to upset him even more, knowing how much he loved winter in New York City? He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, feeling the snowflakes melt on his face. He was freezing - they should have taken their jackets with them - but the tension slowly escaped his body. 

That night, Mike only turned on the radio to hear other people talk about their shit. He didn’t expect Harvey to call, they had just met and he wanted to come over again tomorrow - which meant he had returned to his cozy condo about two hours ago and was either asleep or having a drink, standing on his balcony and probably happy that it had stopped snowing (or so Mike assumed, he couldn’t be sure) so the weather didn’t destroy his perfect hair. He managed to chuckle at the thought.

“This is Santa with the beard, ho ho ho!” Nate started his show and Mike groaned at the awful joke, there were days this man was way too hyper for his own good. “I’m wishing you a MERRY Christmas. Also those of you at the FCI, even though it’s possibly a tough night for you. The first song I’m gonna play tonight is ‘Last Christmas’ and I would like to dedicate it to Robin and Bruce.”

Mike laughed. Bastard!!! He could imagine Harvey losing it, should he actually listen to it. He definitely took the “poor fool” back that he had used in his last letter to his “brother”. Thankfully, Ted knew the right people so his outburst hadn’t blown up straight in his face… He needed to be more careful. No kissing - well that much was obvious. Besides, he really didn’t want his first kiss with Harvey be something he’d experience in prison.

Today’s call-in guests consisted of Lucy (depressed single), Tom (stressed out because he needed to fit his divorced parents into his holiday schedule with his wife, kids and in-laws), Martin (cheating on his girlfriend with her sister) - and BRUCE???

“Santa! Are you kidding me, ‘Last Christmas’?” Harvey sounded… not angry, a little emotional maybe but sort of okay. 

“Merry Christmas, Bruce,” Nate replied with a smirk, “How are you doing?”

“How do you think I’m doing? I’m sitting in my crappy motel room, looking out of this crappy window, watching the crappy snow tumble down without fail while my friend is lying approximately 400 yards away, trying to forget that it’s goddamn Christmas while you think it’s funny to play ‘Wham!’!” Okay. Mike had been wrong. He was angry. 

400 yards? He clawed his nails into the thin fabric of the blanket underneath him. Damn, he wished he could just go outside and talk to Harvey at the fence. Knowing that the other man was this close to him made him feel even more trapped in this hole. 

Nate sighed, “Okay, okay, bad joke, I sincerely apologize. So did you visit him today or are you planning on going over tomorrow?”

“Worst joke! And both,” Harvey replied simply. He was definitely the worst person to do call-in shows.

Mike could feel the tears that he had held at bay for the past few hours force their way back up again. He tried to make himself feel better with the knowledge that as soon as he’d have survived these few days, he could deal with anything jail would throw at him throughout the year. This was an expected bump in the road.

“What was it like?” Nate asked to get some more information out of Harvey.

“What do you think? Depressing!” - There was a little pause because Nate was sure that Harvey would elaborate a little but he didn’t. 

“Alright. Here’s the deal: If you want to talk to me about what’s going on in your life - fine, we’re all here to listen and you know that you have a bunch of people out there who are very curious to hear how you’re doing. But if you have nothing more to say, I need you to request your song and leave our precious air time to somebody who actually wants to share his thoughts,” Nate didn’t sound angry or disappointed. And he did have a point.

Mike could basically hear Harvey frown before he sighed softly and answered, “Okay. Nate. Listen. I’m not good at this shit which shouldn’t surprise you by now. But I jump over my own shadow again and again because I know that this hell of a guy on the other side of those walls over there needs it. I can’t tell you too many details because people in there listen to this station and the last thing I want is endanger him or put him in a weird position. It’s a different world in there, a completely and utterly unique eco-system with own rules, ethics and morals and if I ever said anything to you that would put him in anyone’s crosshairs, I’d not be able to live with myself.”

Harvey hated the show, he would never, ever to save his life call if he didn’t know that Mike needed it. How come nobody saw how perfect he was, why did everybody consider him heartless and cold? He was the most caring person he’d ever encountered. Mike was once again bursting with feelings for the other man.

“I understand, Bruce, you’re not the first caller who has an inmate at the FCI. But what we would like to know from you : Who are you? How are you coping? Do you feel okay? Isn’t it an unbearable amount of stress…?” Nate had changed his tone, he sounded a lot more like Dr. Phil now. 

“That’s none of your goddamn business,” Harvey spat out and immediately shut down, “I’d like to come back to your offer to simply request the song and hang up.” Mike wanted to hold Harvey and kiss him so badly right now, somewhere far away. In that cabin by the ocean. In the mountains. Where nobody could pressure him any further and he could breathe again. 

Nate exhaled loudly “Your call. As always entirely your call. Literally. You know where to find us. So what’s today’s track?”

“Styx. Boat on the river. Robin, I promise you: No fences, no walls, just endlessness.” 

When the song started playing, Mike closed his eyes and imagined to be right there, with Harvey, just the two of them. And if it’d take three times what he’d already survived, he could and would wait for this. And he trusted Harvey to do the same.

_Take me back to my boat on the river  
I need to go down, I need to calm down  
Take me back to my boat on the river  
And I won't cry out anymore  
Time stands still as I gaze in her waters  
She eases me down, touching me gently  
With the waters that flow past my boat on the river  
So I don't cry out anymore_

_Oh the river is wide  
The river it touches my life like the waves on the sand  
And all roads lead to Tranquility Base  
Where the frown on my face disappears  
Take me down to my boat on the river  
And I won't cry out anymore_


	17. Chapter 17

_Dear Harvey,_

_We’ve survived Christmas, can you believe it. You and I both. Wow. That was a lot tougher than I had imagined. When you came into that room the first day, I really didn’t know how to ever let go of you again as soon as we’d have to say goodbye. And then it happened. The meltdown. I’m so sorry. I really tried to stay composed but you were so perfect. The way you avoided anything that could make me homesick, how you kept saying that it’s no problem that you were there for Christmas - you had a horrible poker face that day. You minded - just as much as I did. We both knew that this wasn’t how you were supposed to spend that day, and all those crying grownups around us… I could tell how uncomfortable it made you._

_You know, the thing you told me. The deal you’re trying to secure for me. I know I shouldn’t have reacted that strongly, I didn’t mean to raise my voice that very second but I got scared. I’ve adapted to this reality and… I’ve kinda come to terms with it, even though there are tougher days than others. We’ve talked plenty about that… I didn’t want to let it out on you again. And yet again you just took it gracefully. The way you always do. You don’t have to prove to me that you’re the best closer in the city - I already know. You closed me years ago, it just took me some longer to realize. I can’t always be the quick minded, witty guy, can I?_

_Wow. What a weekend. That you stayed in that shitty motel down the hill still baffles me. There surely are better places in town but you had to take the one I could still see from up here... So much for not being a romantic or a good friend or selfish or any of the other things that you keep calling yourself. You. Are. Perfect. I will say it as many times as I have to until you believe me._

_And if you don’t manage to get your ass here every week, that’s okay - I know that you’re busy. I’m okay, I really am. Life in here is depressing but knowing that I won’t be swallowed by a dark, dangerous hole the moment I get out of here - that’s more than I could ever have wished for when I left you through those gates._

_I know that you tried to come forward with the solution to all problems before Christmas. It’s alright that you didn’t. Every day things get easier and now that this stupid holiday is done with as well, I can concentrate on becoming a better person again._

_Light some fireworks for me for on New Year’s Eve, will you? I know you’re not the kind but by now I have a pretty good idea where you will spend it and even if I’m not able to see it at night, I might possibly hear it. Maybe. I’ll just pretend that the ones I’ll hear will be yours._

_I sound all cheesy in this letter. (Officer, don’t I?) I guess it’s just some kind of relief - the burden being lifted off our shoulders. Do you think Marcus will be mad at you for not seeing his family this year? Tell him I’m sorry. I do keep you away from everyone and everything that’s usually important to you and while you try not to let me feel it, I can sense all the sacrifices you’re making to be at my place and to work on that deal you told me about._

_A thought just occured to me… Have you ever waited 1.5 years for a first date? You know, I know you don’t want to hear it but I’m gonna say it anyway: If at some point in those years you meet someone… go for it, okay? No matter if it’s just for a night or something real… I don’t want you to wait for me. I mean, I obviously want you to but… that’s a selfish request.  
I’m not tempted in here, that much is for sure but your life goes on while mine is put on hold and it would be okay. I wouldn’t be mad if you found someone else. I would be sad. Very sad. Because… I think we could be good together. (did I mention: cheesy?!) But I love you too much to see you unhappy. _

_You will possibly get angry at me for even thinking let alone writing the last paragraph but I mean it and I need you to hear it. It’s important that you don’t disregard your own needs, you tend to do that when you’re fiercely fighting for me, it’s always been like that - you tend to become a little irrational at times (who am I kidding, ignore the ‘little’...)._

_And I also need to repeat that I couldn’t be happier we finally… came out? To one another? I don’t know how to call it but - let’s not waste any more time, you never know what happens - we learned it the hard way and I… well… you know. Life can be short._

_Thank you for “Boat On The River”, I had that song stuck in my head for the last two days. And I really, really, really need us to book a trip somewhere as soon as I’m out of here (in case you’re still single then). So desperately. Freedom is the greatest gift on earth. I want to travel and not meet a single soul. Apart from you obviously. Now wouldn’t that be gorgeous?_

_And then, when we return to glorious New York, I want to drink coffee - PROPER coffee - in Central Park and watch people. Just watch them walk by. And please promise me this: Don’t ever make me peel potatoes again!_

_Dreamy greetings  
Peter Pan_


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again I would like to thank you so very much. I love this fandom, people are so encouraging and enthusiastic. I would never have been able to finish this with everything that life has thrown at me but all of you have helped me through some tough time. You're fantastic!
> 
> The final playlist can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL0bS_p-67Sb9y-e59GfLkwBXVLlYVCKEt).

Friday, the 30th. One day before New Year’s Eve. 2016 was finally over. What a shitty year. No. Mike wanted to rephrase - but he didn’t quite know what would be more appropriate. Harvey had waltzed straight into his heart, so “shitty” would disregard all the revelations and latest developments. On the other hand, “eventful” definitely didn’t quite cut it...

He was tired. So, so tired. When he closed his eyes, he could hear the rushing of blood in his ears. That was unusual. He hadn’t heard that in months, there had been so much commotion, coughing, snoring, fighting, talking around him, that he had hardly ever been able to concentrate on himself. But now that was the only sound. In. And out. And in.  
And out.  
Out.

There was a creaking noise about three steps away and he smiled, eyes still closed. His hands were playing with the soft fabric underneath his body, the smell of wood was just everywhere. He couldn’t wipe the grin off of his face that should definitely be hurting by now but it wasn’t. 

Breathing not too far from him. No talk. Just breathing. A pleasant sound. He could feel a presence close to his and his body didn’t get into fight or flight mode but stayed completely still. A fire was lit. The warmth Mike had felt in his system surrounded him now as well and he slowly blinked, reluctantly opening his eyes. 

“Hey there,” Harvey smiled and sat down on the rug right next to him. He wore blue jeans and a black Henley and gave him the most charming, caring look. “Did you fall asleep? Sorry, it took me some time to find the wood stack…” 

Mike sat up and grinned “Isn’t it just around the house?”

“Yeah…” Harvey laughed and got to his feet, “Come, I found something I wanna show you… Put on your jacket!” 

They both wrapped themselves up and walked out of the cabin. Mike could hear the ocean somewhere in the near distance, he hadn’t seen it yet - they’d only just arrived. Straight from Danbury. Without taking a detour to pack stuff or say hello to people they both knew. Harvey pushed the branches of a bush aside and pulled Mike after him, up a little hill. He stood right next to him and eyed him from the corner of his eye as the other men took it all in.  
The endlessness.  
The horizon. 

“No fences…” Mike choked up, feeling tears jump to his eyes, “I warned you I would cry like a baby…” His voice was trembling and he was shaky. 

Harvey wrapped his arm around him and replied gently, “No fences, no walls… And you may…”

They both knew what this moment meant. Mike was free. They were free. They had survived half a year of hell. More than half a year if you took the trial into account. They stood in silence and Harvey kept Mike close, letting him have his moment.

When the cold had crept into their bones, Harvey whispered “Let’s go back inside, okay? We can come back a little later. Warm us up, I’ll cook - spaghetti, no potatoes…” Mike simply nodded, too exhausted to speak. It wasn’t real yet. It probably wouldn’t be for a while. But that was okay. Harvey was here - he didn’t have to deal with this on his own.

After a gorgeous spaghetti carbonara (it was probably average to anyone else but to Mike it tasted like heaven), they dressed in comfy clothes (of course Harvey had packed some stuff for both of them before picking Mike up, most of it seemed a little too big for now but he’d make sure that soon enough he’d fill them out again) and snuggled on the couch. Mike sighed contently as he leaned against Harvey “This is perfect. Thank you. For everything.” 

“You don’t have to do that… Thanking me all the time,” Harvey dismissed the whole matter but Mike stayed adamant. He simply insisted, “Yes I do. And I will. Better get used to it…” 

He looked into Harvey’s eyes, mesmerized. They sat like this for a while when he admitted “You know, I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since I got out of that place. But I still feel like I’m being watched.” He gnawed on his lip uneasily and Harvey ran his hand through Mike’s short hair.

“I get it. It will take a while… Let me help you,” he winked softly and kissed Mike lovingly, slowly, gently, putting as much reassurance into it as possible. He could basically feel the moment that Mike finally allowed himself to come home, his muscles relaxed and his breathing turned to normal, he closed his eyes and intensified the kiss, holding tightly onto Harvey’s shirt to make sure he didn’t just vanish right in front of him.

Mike couldn’t quite decide if he should laugh or cry, so he did both. And it was okay. 

When Harvey looked at the clock a lot later, he chuckled and had this special twinkle in his eye Mike had first encountered that night they had smoked pot together. Naughty, up to no good. He tilted his head curiously and asked entertained “What?”

“I have an idea…” he reached for his phone and pressed speed dial 6. 

“What the hell, Harvey, we said no people….” Mike wanted to protest but Harvey shushed him and grinned “You’ll like this one…”

As much as Mike tried to be angry at Harvey - he simply couldn’t. That man looked so happy, so at ease. For the first time in forever he wasn’t worried he’d just faint right before his eyes. This was the man he had first fallen in love with. He was confident. Strong. Happy. 

“Hello, this is Bruce… I’d like to talk to Nate, please. I promise this time I have something to say!”

Mike’s jaw dropped and he couldn’t believe that this was actually happening, his heart raced as he mouthed “Harvey, no... “Harvey was put on hold for a minute and put the phone on loudspeaker. 

Mike started laughing, “This is a bad idea!!!” 

“Hello Bruce!!! I didn’t think I’d hear from you again after our last little encounter, how are you?” Nate with the beard asked him and Harvey grinned all over his face before he answered “Actually, absolutely perfect. I just called to tell you that from now on you can play as much ‘Last Christmas’, ‘Lady Gaga’ or ‘David Guetta’ as you like. Robin and I are going to turn off the radio and listen to some quality music.”

Nate was so excited that he disregarded all insults that had just been thrown at him, “Robin was released?” 

Harvey grinned at Mike and held out his phone before asking “Robin, do you wanna say something?”

The younger man shook his head wildly and pushed the phone back in Harvey’s direction. “Sorry, Nate, he doesn’t seem to be much of the sharing kind…”

“Now doesn’t that sound familiar?” Nate chuckled and asked “So do you want us to play a song tonight or are you done with that as well?” Harvey was about to decline the offer but now it was Mike’s turn. He knew that Ted inherited his radio and even though he wasn’t sure he’d be listening in, he took the phone out of Harvey’s hand and replied “Okay. This is Robin. People in Danbury know me by ‘Mike’. Or by ‘Ross’. This one’s for Ted. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Nate, can you play ‘Lean On Me’ by Bill Withers?” 

“I most certainly can. Alright, mysterious Ted. This one goes out to you from Batman and Robin. Bruce and Robin. Bruce and Mike or whatever our secretive caller’s true name is. - You’re sure you don’t wanna give yourself away now that it’s all over?”

“Damn sure!” Harvey shouted into the phone.

“Now that’s the Bruce we know and love… Happy New Year everyone, here’s ‘Lean On Me’”. 

Harvey hung up the phone and looked at Mike cheekily “So, still a bad idea? I thought you might do that…”

“Did you just play me?” Mike asked incredulously.

“I don’t play the odds…” Harvey started and Mike interrupted him, moving closer for a kiss “I know, I know, you play the man.” 

That night, Mike didn’t need a song to fall asleep, Harvey’s even breathing right next to him was the perfect lullaby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _And for those of you who couldn’t go to sleep without this, thinking 'wait a minute, didn't you forget about a little something there', I’ll give you a tiny, tiny epilogue:_
> 
>  
> 
> When Mike woke up the next morning, he felt a little disorientated; it took him a moment to realize why he had slept like a baby, why he wasn’t scared that anyone was looking over his shoulders - why he felt just safe. 
> 
> Then it dawned on him. He opened his eyes and looked straight at Harvey who was grinning at him very contently. 
> 
> “You need to appoint a counter,” he declared and kissed Mike’s nose. 
> 
> “Good morning to you, too?!” he replied amused.
> 
> “Your light bulb problem. You need to appoint a counter. It’s pretty easy actually.” 
> 
> Now Mike was all ears, he turned to face Harvey properly, “Go on…”
> 
> “One person is chosen as the counter. If the light switch is on, no prisoner will touch it. If it is off, and a prisoner who has never flicked the switch enters, then he flicks the switch on. It stays like that until the counter returns. The counter never flicks it up, only flicks it down. Once he notices that it's been flicked up 99 times, he says that 100 prisoners have visited, and they go free,” Harvey explained matter-of-factly but Mike could tell how much he enjoyed this.
> 
> “Show off,” he mumbled and shook his head, not believing that Harvey had just solved it with ease.
> 
> “Best closer in the city…” he winked before he kissed Mike passionately. 
> 
> "Best closing statement ever!" Mike replied as soon as he came up for air.


End file.
